


Total Eclipse of the Heart

by SeeBeeStrellacott



Category: Cormoran Strike Series - Robert Galbraith
Genre: Angst and Fluff and Smut, F/M, Friendship/Love, Idiots in Love, Inspired by Music, Musical References, Post-Lethal White, Some Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-08
Updated: 2020-06-24
Packaged: 2021-03-04 06:27:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 24,296
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24609142
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SeeBeeStrellacott/pseuds/SeeBeeStrellacott
Summary: Robin has a stalker.  Can Strike protect her while still keeping his heart intact?
Relationships: Robin Ellacott/Cormoran Strike
Comments: 36
Kudos: 103
Collections: Musical Musings - Cormoran Strike Fic Exchange





	1. (I Can't Get No) Satisfaction

**Author's Note:**

> I'm American, so forgive me if I miss on any British-isms.  
> To enhance your enjoyment of this piece, I suggest making a playlist of all included songs. :)  
> This is my first work, so I hope you enjoy it!

Robin sat staring out of the window of the café, idly sipping her tea. The music playing overhead, The Rolling Stones, almost seemed to be mocking her current state of mind. 

_I can’t get no satisfaction_

_‘Cause I try and I try and I try and I try_

_I can’t get no, I can’t get no_

She desperately tried not think about how unsatisfying her life was lately, especially this week. She tried to convince herself that her current depression was because she had spent the last few days cooped up in this café, trying and failing to catch the buxom blonde she was following in any wrong doing, and not because she hadn’t seen Strike at all in the last week.

Two Times had hired them yet again to follow his new girlfriend. Though this was now the third case they had worked for him, they continued to use his old nickname. The new girlfriend was a tall, curvy, and very beautiful blonde bookshop owner. Two Times definitely had a type – beautiful women that were anything but unfaithful. But for some reason, he continued to think he was being cheated on.

Robin was starting to feel to very uncomfortable about the part she was playing in this perverted voyeuristic game. She had long suspected that Two Times knew good and well that these women weren’t cheating on him, but received some kind of sick pleasure fantasizing about them having an affair. She suspected the photographic “evidence” played heavily in his fantasies. But, as Strike continued to remind her, Two Times was a good customer, and he if wanted to waste his money by having the agency take innocent photographs of his girlfriends, why would they turn him down? They could always use the money after all, and it was an easy job. But it was also very boring.

_I can’t get no_

_Oh, no no no_

That bloody song was still playing. Robin looked at her watch yet again and sighed. It didn’t help her mood at all to constantly be reminded of how a creep like Two Times was able to continually attract gorgeous women, and Robin hadn’t even been on a single date since her divorce. She was starting to feel a bit like the good china. Granted, her divorce had only been finalized about a month ago, but still. No one had even asked for her number, or even attempted to flirt with her for that matter. She wasn’t that unappealing, was she? 

Her flat mate, Tristan, had offered to set her up a few times. She insisted that she wasn’t ready to date yet. The truth was that she didn’t fancy the idea of a blind date. Plus, she didn’t exactly trust Tristan’s taste in men, if his own dates were any indication. No, she would much rather meet someone she liked, maybe build a friendship, and go from there.

Her mind drifted to her boss, and how he also seemed to have an endless string of beautiful women on his arm. She scowled at her tea, which was growing cold. Robin was allowing her mood to spiral, she knew. She was feeling increasingly morose. _Although,_ she thought _, he hasn’t seen anyone in a while. Not that I know of, at least. Not since Lorelei._ This thought cheered her slightly for reasons she chose not to examine too closely.

Of course, her lack of male attention might have something to do with the fact that she wasn’t exactly going out much. Though the agency was doing well and Strike had given her a small raise, her bills had piled up after the divorce. She allowed herself a few small splurges here and there, but money was too tight to go to the pub every night. She usually turned down Vanessa when she asked her to go out. Vanessa often casually offered to treat, but Robin hated charity. She wouldn’t go if she couldn’t pay her own way. Saturday nights were almost always curry takeaway with Nick, Ilsa, and Strike. Friday nights were usually at the Tottenham with Strike, the one night she allowed herself to go out, and no man in his right mind would dare to hit on her with her big surly partner sitting across from her. 

“Fortunate Son” by Creedence Clearwater Revival came on the radio. Robin welcomed the change, until it caused a cascading train of thought that only threatened to worsen her frame of mind. The song always reminded her of the movie _Forrest Gump_ , which inevitably made her think of the military, which brought her mind back to…. _Bugger_. Robin stood up abruptly, deciding that she needed to get out of this café. She shoved her book into her bag, left her half-drunk tea on the table, and stepped out into a welcoming breeze. 

She felt eyes on her and immediately froze. The street was mostly deserted, except for a few random cars passing, a woman walking her dog, and a man sitting on his stoop reading a newspaper. None of them seemed to be paying her any attention. She was probably just feeling jumpy after her musings about voyeurism. She decided to head across the street to the bookstore that Two Times’ girlfriend owned, and see if she could find anything more captivating to read. Trying hard to put it out of her mind, she couldn’t shake the feeling that she was being watched.

***

It was almost 1 o’clock as Strike finished getting dressed. He was already on his second cup of strong tea, but the caffeine wasn’t helping. He was completely knackered. He had been working over night for the past week. He hated not starting his day until after noon, it made him feel a like a layabout. His small radio was playing softly in the background. It seemed to be reading his mind, taunting him with the cause of his bad mood. “Satisfaction” by The Rolling Stones was playing. 

_When I’m ridin’ round the world_

_And I’m doin’ this and I’m signin’ that_

_And I’m tryin’ to make some girl_

_Who tells me baby better come back maybe next week_

_‘Cause you see I’m on a losing streak_

He hadn’t seen Robin in a week. He was still asleep while she was in the office in the mornings, and she was out on a case while he was in the office in the afternoons. He had had to cancel last Friday’s drinks at the Tottenham and Saturday curry night. He was currently investigating a stripper, whose oddly strict boss suspected she was prostituting on the side. Unfortunately, strippers didn’t get much business on weekdays. This had him keeping very inconvenient hours, and his disposition was worsening by the day. 

He tried to convince himself that the downward trajectory of his morale was not because he hadn’t seen Robin, but because he was so tired. His body continually reminded him that he wasn’t that young anymore, which he found extremely frustrating. The feelings for his partner that he had been keeping under wraps were slowly bubbling to the surface. It was easier when she was engaged, or even married for that matter. She was strictly off limits then. But now….

Now that she was finally divorced, he wasn’t sure what he was still waiting for. _She’s barely even been divorced a month, for fuck’s sake._ He didn’t want to be the creep that swoops in on a woman when she’s vulnerable _. Recent divorces never bothered you before_ , he argued with himself. It certainly didn’t stop him from pursuing Elin. _Robin is different though_ , he countered. _I can’t do that to Robin_.

Thankfully, she hadn’t been on any dates since her divorce, at least not that he knew of. He really ought to get a move on, before someone else swoops in. _It’s too soon_. He needed to proceed carefully, he knew. Curry nights and Fridays at the Tottenham were certainly helping things along, but he still couldn’t get a read on her feelings. He had never had trouble gauging a woman’s interest before. _But this is Robin._ He didn’t want to risk their friendship, their business. What if he made his move and she didn’t share his feelings? It was too risky. He should keep it platonic for now. Or at least until he got a clear signal that she wanted to be more than friends _. God, now he sounded like a teenager_. 

He angrily drained the last of his tea, spilling some onto his clean shirt. _Fuck!_ His mood was definitely beyond salvaging now. His renewed decision to keep Robin at arm’s length had already ruined this rest of his day, and likely the rest of his week. Even though he knew it was probably the right the thing to do, it still made him feel like a coward.

He quickly changed his shirt and slammed the door to his flat with more force than necessary. At least he would have the office to himself so he could try to get his irritation under control. He locked himself in his inner office, unsuccessfully attempted to get some work done, and smoked much more than usual.


	2. Don't Stop Believin'

Robin awoke Friday morning to the soothing sounds of rain hitting the windows of her bedroom. She snuggled deeper into her blankets, trying to prolong the dream she was having. It was the most _delicious_ dream. Cormoran had showed up at her flat, unannounced, saying that he missed her and couldn’t wait another minute to see her again. He pulled her into his arms and kissed her. Robin threw her arms around his neck and melted into him. 

She accounted for the rain in her replaying of the dream, imagining that Cormoran was soaked through. Water dropped from his hair onto her nose as they got lost exploring each other’s mouths. He gently kissed the droplet off the tip of her nose before trailing kisses down her neck to her collarbone. She dropped her hands to his chest and massaged his rather firm pecs. With no hesitation, she grabbed his shirt and lifted it over his head. Dream Cormoran was very muscular with a tight stomach, bulging biceps, a well-defined chest, and a sexy smattering of chest hair. She allowed herself to gaze appreciatively at his physique as she ran her fingers along the grooves of his muscles.

She knew that real Cormoran was a little softer around the middle, and probably much hairier, but she imagined there were nicely toned muscles there too. His considerable size and history as a boxer suggested that there was a good deal of strength and power in him. She was finding that power more and more distracting; so distracting that her subconscious had taken over and revealed her true desires.

She remembered how it had felt in her dream to have his hands caressing her, unbuttoning her blouse, ghosting over her perked nipples. As they tumbled onto her bed, Cormoran hovered over her, looked deeply into her eyes and whispered, “I love you, Robin.” Then her dream had ended.

As she gradually came back to reality, Robin felt shame sinking in. She shouldn’t be thinking of Cormoran like this. He was her friend, her colleague. Surely no good could come of indulging in these fantasies. For the first time this week, she was glad that he wouldn’t be in the office this morning. She wasn’t sure she could look him in the eye after what her subconscious had imagined him doing to her. She felt herself redden as she remembered Dream Robin reaching down to stroke Cormoran’s rather considerable length. 

Yep, _definitely_ glad he won’t be in this morning.

Her embarrassment eased a bit as she showered and got dressed, moving slowly and deliberately. She was sure that she could at least face Tristan now without looking guilty. Robin would have loved to just sneak out the door without seeing him, but he was going out of town for the weekend and she felt it would be rude to leave without saying goodbye.

Tristan was puttering about in the kitchen when Robin went down. Robin greeted him brightly, perhaps a little too brightly. Tristan turned around and gave her an appraising look. He smirked, his eyes twinkling. 

“Morning. Are you feeling alright? You look a little flushed.”

“Oh, yes, I’m fine,” Robin stammered, “You know, just rushing around. I got up a little late this morning. Anyway, have a nice trip.”

Robin gave Tristan a hug and a quick kiss on the cheek, bade him goodbye, and tried not to rush out the door too quickly. She immediately turned around and ran back inside.

“Forgot my umbrella,” she called. “Bye, have a good weekend!”

Robin practically ran to the tube station, hardly noticing where she was going. 

The office was peaceful and quiet, and she soon got lost in updating reports and checking email. She was stalling, not looking forward to another boring afternoon of watching Shop Girl. She decided to eat lunch in the office, even though she really should be leaving to do her surveillance. She convinced herself that she was reluctant to leave simply because she didn’t want to get back out in the rain and spend another fruitless afternoon in that café. It certainly wasn’t because she was half hoping that if she hung around long enough she might be able to spend a few minutes with her partner. 

She heard Strike’s heavy footsteps upstairs. _He’s awake_. The details of last night’s dream came rushing back to her. Robin could feel her face reddening, and completely chickened out. She gathered up her things and quietly left the office before Strike could make it downstairs.

***

Strike got dressed in a haze. He wasn’t sure how much longer he could keep up these hours. He really didn’t want to spend another night creeping around a strip club. He had showered before he got in bed last night, or rather this morning, and had showered again when he got up this afternoon but he still felt filthy. He didn’t want to think about how much money he had spent for “private time” with the other strippers so that he could question them. Even though he refused lap dances from all of them, he still felt sleazy.

He thought he heard the door downstairs close. Stepping out onto the landing, he called down the stairs, “Robin? Are you still here?” No reply. He locked his flat and went down to the office. Robin’s perfume lingered in the air; she had definitely just left. Strike tried not to feel too disappointed in having missed her, and dove into his paperwork.

***

Robin had read three pages of her new book before she realized that she hadn’t comprehended a single word. She was too lost in her own thoughts to focus on reading right now. She got up to use the loo and order another scone. She was shocked to find that the café wasn’t empty. The man on the stoop from yesterday was sitting in the corner reading his paper, with a half-eaten sandwich in front of him. Robin hadn’t even noticed him come in.

As she returned to her table with her scone, she again had that feeling of being watched. She could feel the panic rising. She hadn’t had a panic attack in some time. She had been practicing her CBT exercises more regularly. Strike had been helping her. Robin very reluctantly accepted his help after he had threatened to fire her if she didn’t. He had been joking of course, but it still made Robin feel weak despite the thoughtfulness of the gesture. She hated feeling weak.

Hiding behind her book, Robin tried to regulate her breathing. The panic gradually receded, and she looked around the café to make sure no one had noticed her momentary loss of control. 

A distraction came in the form of a text message. It was from Strike!

**Tottenham tonight?**

Robin’s heart accelerated and she texted back, **I thought you were covering Starlight.**

**Are you free to talk?**

Feeling inappropriately excited, she said that she was, and her phone immediately started ringing.

Without preamble, Strike explained, “Barclay needs to switch cases with me. It turns out he knows one of the bankers he’s supposed to be following.”

“Oh, that’s not good.”

“No, the guy saw him so his cover is blown. Barclay was able to pass it off as a chance meeting, but he certainly can’t go back there. So he’s going to cover Starlight now, which means I can get back to a normal schedule. So, drinks?”

Robin hoped she didn’t sound too eager as she said, “Yeah, that’d be great. See you there at 6?”

“It’s a date.” 

Strike inwardly groaned at his choice of words and hoped Robin wouldn’t read too much into it. Or, maybe he should say things like that more often and try to gauge her reaction. _Don’t go there._

Feeling considerably more cheerful, Robin resumed her surveillance. The rain had let up a little and the man with the newspaper went back across the street to sit on his stoop and smoke a cigarette. He continued to mill about the rest of the afternoon, making Robin feel increasingly uneasy. He was doing exactly what she does when she’s tailing someone, pretending to be busy doing nothing. _He probably lives around here,_ she told herself. Her nervousness could be because of her non-date with Strike. He was kidding, right? Of course he was. _Don’t be stupid, Ellacott_.

***

Around 5 o’clock, Strike went upstairs to change his shirt into something a little less _strip club customer_. Without thinking about his motivation for doing so, he shaved again and put on some cologne. He decided to go down to the Tottenham a little early, maybe get in a pint or two to calm his nerves before Robin got there.

***

It was getting late, and the man was still sitting around doing nothing, just as she was. Unable to take it anymore, Robin decided to test whether or not Newspaper Man was watching her. She would walk down the street a bit, do some window shopping, maybe pop into a few shops, and see what he does. Using her training in counter surveillance, Robin surreptitiously glanced at the man while pretending to look at window displays. He stayed on his stoop and gave no sign that he intended to follow her. It was almost half past, and as much as she wanted to continue this experiment, she needed to leave to meet Strike. Making a mental note to change up her routine a bit on Monday, she turned and set off in the direction of the tube. The dead weight in the pit of her stomach easing with every step, she softly hummed Journey’s “Don’t Stop Believin’”.


	3. Human

As Robin walked towards the tube she again became aware that Newspaper Man was following her. _Don’t panic, it’s just a coincidence_. She struggled to keep her pace steady and not break into a run. She relied on her training to keep an eye on him. She nonchalantly reached into her bag to grasp her rape alarm. She crossed the street, stopped to look in a shop window, gauging the man’s response. 

If he was following her, he was good. Really good. He was keeping a good distance and had not crossed the street when she did. She slowed even more, wanting to see if he would pass her. He didn’t seem to have altered his pace at all. Soon enough, he did pass her and went into a grocer. If he did live around here, there was another grocer that was closer to the café she had been haunting. It was unlikely that this was his usual shop, plus he wasn’t carrying any bags or anything with him. _This_ , she thought, _was a diversionary technique._

She took advantage of his brief absence to get lost in the crowd heading towards the tube. The disadvantage of this tactic was that it also made it difficult for her to track his movements. The train arrived a minute after she reached the platform. Keeping her panic at bay, she hoped that the train would leave before the man had time to reach her again. As the train left the station, she heaved a sigh of relief that she still hadn’t seen the man.

***

Strike was sitting in a corner of the Tottenham, already halfway down his second pint of Doom Bar. As Robin opened the door of the pub, the song “Oh, Pretty Woman” by Roy Orbison started playing. Completely bewildered, Strike wondered if Robin now came with her own theme music. He felt like a total prat when he realized that it was just someone’s ringtone. She strode over to his table and plopped into the chair opposite him.

Strike had already ordered her a glass of wine. “I took the liberty… Christ, what happened to you?” He had only just realized that Robin looked out of breath and a bit peaky.

“I… it’s nothing really.” She didn’t want to tell him about Newspaper Man, but she knew that she probably should. “Bit stupid, really, but I thought there was a man following me.” Robin gulped her wine.

All humor gone, Strike replied, “What? Where? Just now?” 

He had halfway stood up and was looking around the pub wildly, as if he expected to see a hooded figure lurking in the corner.

Robin motioned for him to sit and explained, “Well first saw him yesterday. He was reading a newspaper across from the café where I was watching Shop Girl. He didn’t do anything really, just gave me a weird feeling, you know? Then he was there again today. He even came into the café for a bit. When I left for the tube he followed me down the street.”

“Did he talk to you? Touch you? Are you alright?”

Strike was watching her with concern. She knew he was probably looking for any signs of a panic attack. This irritated her.

“Really, Cormoran, I’m probably imagining it,” she said with impatience. “He didn’t seem to be paying any attention to me. It could have just been a coincidence that he was walking the same direction. Just being stupid.” 

She was having trouble looking him in the eye.

Strike reached across the table and grasped her hand, causing her look up. “Always trust your instincts, Robin,” he told her gently. “Maybe you and I should switch cases for a while.”

She didn’t answer him, but grasped at the opportunity for a change in subject.

“Tell me what happened with Barclay.” 

She extracted her hand under the guise of taking a sip of her wine. Much as she enjoyed the feel of his hand on hers, she hated the way he was looking at her. He was being too kind, too understanding. She would have preferred it if he had told her that she was being a prat, maybe joke with her a bit. This felt like pity.

Strike wasn’t fooled. He noticed that she hadn’t answered, but decided not to press the issue for now. 

“Well, I already told you the gist of it.” He sounded disappointed, which made her feel guilty for rejecting his compassion. “One of Barclay’s old mates from school is one of the bankers we’re supposed to investigate. To tell you the truth, I’m quite glad it happened. I think I’ve had enough fake lap dances to last a lifetime. Mind you, I wouldn’t say no to a real lap dance.” 

This last comment had the exact effect he had hoped for. Robin playfully slapped him on the arm and giggled, her sharp exterior softening considerably.

“I’m starving, you?”

“Famished.” 

Robin wasn’t really all that hungry, having already eaten two scones after lunch, but she was happy that they had moved on to brighter topics.

Strike went to order their food and another pint for himself. When he returned they fell into companionable chatter about nothing of any importance. Robin expressed how excited she was to have the flat to herself while Tristan was enjoying a weekend getaway in Paris with his flavor of the month.

“You’re planning a wild party, aren’t you, and you didn’t invite me?” He feigned hurt feelings. “Who else did you invite?”

Robin laughed, “Just Nick and Ilsa, a few blokes I met down at the pub, Shanker.”

“Well, just make sure you keep Ilsa out of the tequila. She’ll end up talking everyone into going streaking or something.”

Robin gasped, “Cormoran Strike, have you been streaking?!?!”

She roared with laughter as Strike cleared his throat uncomfortably and got up to get them more drinks.

Eyes still watering with laughter, Robin excused herself to the loo. On her way back to the table, she saw him sitting near the door of the pub. Newspaper Man. He was wearing a different hat and keeping his head low, but Robin was sure it him. He was wearing the same jacket and had the same build. Her step faltered slightly. As she slid into her chair she hissed, “He’s here.”

Strike’s head popped up. “The stalker? Where, what does he look like?” Strike’s tone was terrifying, the look on his face deadly.

“By the door. Blue hat, black jacket.”

The moment Strike’s eyes found the man, he was up and out the door. Strike tried to run after him, but was blocked by pub-goers. By the time he reached the pavement outside the man was nowhere in sight. Strike tried to give chase, choosing a direction at random. He slipped a little on the still wet pavement, and cursed the inconvenience of his stump. He gave it up as a bad job and returned to Robin inside.

She looked at him imploringly, but he just shook his head.

“Right, so I don’t think you should be alone this weekend.”

Robin started to protest, but Strike held up a hand to stop her. “Robin, you know that I’m right. That man is definitely stalking you. We don’t know who he is, or what he wants. What if he knows where you live?” His tone was rough, almost aggressive, daring her to argue.

“Well what am I supposed to do? I don’t really have the money to shell out for a hotel room,” she admitted a little shamefacedly. The divorce had cost her a fortune in legal bills, and had left her with quite a bit of debt thanks to her _tit_ of an ex-husband. 

Strike thought for a minute. “Hang on, I have an idea.” He went back outside to call Nick and smoke a cigarette.

While he was gone, Robin tried to get her brain to think rationally. Strike was right, of course. It wasn’t safe for her to be alone with this unknown threat on the loose. She thought about calling Vanessa, but really didn’t want to inconvenience her. 

Strike slid back into his seat. “So much for that idea, Nick’s parents are visiting. I was hoping you could stay with them.” 

Both were quiet for a bit, thinking. With a resolute nod of his head, Strike said, “Right, so it’s settled. I’ll sleep on your sofa. If this twat does know where you live, hopefully he won’t try anything when he sees that you aren’t alone. I can keep an eye on the street and see if he shows up.”

“Cormoran, you really don’t have to do that. I’ve been alone all day…” She trailed off, the look on his face making it clear this was not up for debate. 

All mirth having been drained from their evening, they quietly finished their drinks and walked back to Strike’s tiny attic so he could gather some clothes and few other necessities for the weekend. He moved with purpose, channeling his anger into something productive.

They took a cab to Earl’s Court. Neither of them spoke much. The tension was palpable and it was driving Robin crazy. She wasn’t sure if Strike’s anger was directed at the stalker or her reluctant acceptance of his decision to stay with her _. Probably both_ , she thought miserably. 

Strike dropped his holdall by the sofa, then went outside to check for any signs of loiterers or other suspicious activity. Robin was in the kitchen making tea when he came back in smelling strongly of smoke. Desperate for a distraction, she connected her phone to the flat’s smart speakers and put on one of her favorite playlists. "Human" _,_ by Of Monsters and Men started playing.

_When the words_

_Weigh heavy on the heart_

_I am lost_

_And lead only by the stars_

Strike reached around her to grab his mug of tea. He was standing so close. Too close. His nearness, his warmth, and his scent (spicy cologne mixed with tobacco) caused Robin’s already frazzled nerves to go into overdrive, forcing her to blurt out, “You really don’t have to do this, Cormoran. I’ll be fine, I can take care of myself.”

Strike slammed his fist down on the countertop, rattling the mugs and causing Robin to jump. “Fuck’s sake, Robin, I can’t lose you!” Strike was too overcome with emotion to care that his voice had cracked on the word _can’t_. He suddenly pulled her into a tight hug, resting his cheek on the top of her head. “How many times have I almost lost you now? I couldn’t bear it if anything happened to you.” His voice was practically a growl, colored with frustration, fear, and something else.

Robin was completely gob smacked by his outpouring of emotion. Not knowing what to do or say, she simply hugged him back. Closing her eyes, she allowed his warmth to calm her nerves. He kissed her on the forehead, in what he had intended to be a friendly kind of way. But his lips were just a little too tender and lingered just a second too long. Robin’s eyes popped open, her head flying up to look at his face.

Strike was wearing an expression that was half “shit, what have I done” and half _“_ I want more.” He gently caressed her cheek with the backs of his fingers, trying to erase her look of confusion. His thumb ghosted over the freckles on her cheekbone. Robin was completely unable to move. Her brain seemed to have frozen.

She looked into his eyes, trying to read their liquid depths. She saw only desire there. She felt as if she were looking into his very soul, and he into hers. She noticed that his lips were parted slightly. Now that she was looking at his mouth, she was powerless to look away. His lips looked so soft and slightly plump, so inviting. 

Cormoran noticed the shift in her gaze. Her lips parted. He felt hypnotized, unable to resist as he slowly leaned his head down towards hers. He paused a hair’s breadth away from her lips and looked into her eyes, silently asking permission. She didn’t move away, which he took as consent. He closed the distance between them, lightly pressing his lips to hers. 

He had meant to give her a soft, tender, closed-mouth kiss. His tongue, however, had other ideas. The tip of his tongue darted between her lips to tease at the tip of her tongue. After a moment, Robin’s brain finally clicked back into place.

She threw her arms around his neck, pressing in closer to him, and invaded his mouth with her tongue. He was slightly taken aback by her animated response, but he matched her in her enthusiasm. Their tongues twirled and danced together. 

Robin realized with slight discomfiture that she had totally taken control of the kiss and was thoroughly ravaging his mouth. Wanting to give him back some control and give him the chance to explore her own mouth, she pulled her tongue back.

Cormoran stilled. With great difficulty, he wrenched his mouth off of hers. Robin was left mouthing the air like an absurd fish. Unable to let her go completely, he turned his head to the side and whispered, “Fuck, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have done that.”

_What?_ Robin’s brain wasn’t working again.

“I’m sorry,” he rasped again, his tone heavy with pain and regret.

_No, that’s not what I meant._

Cormoran dropped his hold on her and turned to step away.

_Do something, stupid!_

Robin willed her brain back into action. Her arm shot out and grabbed a handful of his shirt as he turned away. “Cormoran, wait!”

He reluctantly turned back towards her, eyes on the floor. Robin stepped into him with such force that he was knocked back half a step. Acting of their own accord, his hands grasped her hips. Robin raked trembling fingers through his hair, and interlocked them at the nape of his neck. Standing on her tiptoes, she pulled his head down to hers and kissed him with everything she had.

Strike responded, slightly apprehensive at first, but then he sank into the kiss. He wrapped one arm around her waist while the other snaked up her back until his hand was in her hair, cradling her head. When he sucked on her tongue, Robin’s knees quite literally gave out. Cormoran supported her easily, both the cause of and solution to her vertigo. She moaned into his mouth, and Cormoran very nearly tore her clothes off and took her right there in the kitchen. _Not like this. Not tonight, anyway_.

She withdrew her tongue again, this time giving it a “come hither” flick. He understood her meaning and took his turn exploring her mouth with his tongue.

He lifted her up on the countertop and she wrapped her legs around him. He dropped his hands to cup her arse and pull her in closer. Invited now to explore, Robin spread her hands across his chest, just as she had in her dream. She was pleased to find that it was every bit as firm as she had imagined. She trailed her fingers a little lower, and Cormoran’s stomach tightened. She smiled against his lips. She was right about this too, he was a little softer here.

With a courage she didn’t know she had, she dropped her hands lower still and hooked her fingers in his waistband. Cormoran’s kiss skipped a beat, his full attention now on her hands. Anticipating what she was about to do, he caught her wrist just before she reached her ultimate prize.

Out of breath, he rasped, “Maybe we’re moving a little too fast.”

“Cormoran, we’ve been friends for four years. I think we’ve moved slow enough.” She whispered against his lips, “Stop being a gentleman.”

His grip on her wrist loosened and she easily reached forward to grab his erection. She lightly stroked him through his trousers, eliciting a moan. “Come upstairs with me?” Her voice was husky and raw. Unable to speak, he simply nodded.

Cormoran wished he could carry her up the stairs and silently cursed his leg again. He was completely surprised when sweet, innocent, wholesome Robin grinned wickedly at him and pulled him towards the stairs by his cock.


	4. Never Let Me Go

Once they stepped into her bedroom, Cormoran wrapped an arm around her stomach, swept her hair over one shoulder, and sensuously kissed the back of her neck. 

Florence + the Machine’s “Never Let Me Go” was playing from downstairs. Strike had never connected much with this type of music, but he felt that Robin could not have chosen a more poignant playlist. Each song seemed to capture his very thoughts and emotions. He knew that every time he would hear this music in the future, he would be transported back to this moment. He would remember in perfect detail how Robin felt pressed against him, the smell of her hair, the smoothness of her skin, the light in her eyes.

This song in particular seemed to resonate with him. 

_And the arms of the ocean are carrying me_

_And all this devotion was rushing out of me_

_And the crashes are heaven, for a sinner like me_

_But the arms of the ocean delivered me_

He was certain this was not a love song. It spoke of something much darker. And yet it seemed to elucidate his feelings for Robin. He was the sinner, undeserving of her love. Every touch, every kiss, threatened to crush his heart. But she was the ocean, encircling him, delivering him, and he was powerless to resist her pull.

Robin turned to him, suddenly nervous. The reality of the situation was crashing down on her. Her previous courage evaporated. “Cormoran, I…I’ve only ever been with Matthew.” Her face and neck reddened and she looked away.

“I figured as much,” he replied gently.

“It’s just that… I… I don’t,” she stammered, turning a deeper shade of red.

Understanding what she was struggling to say, Cormoran cupped her cheek, forcing her to look at him. “It’s not like you’re a virgin,” he grinned at her, trying to ease her discomfort.

This only seemed to embarrass her more. “I know, it’s just that you’re so much more experienced than I am.”

He chuckled, “I’m not sure if I should be insulted by that or not.” Robin gave a brief almost-laugh.

“It’s just that I don’t want to disappoint you.” She looked up at him through her eyelashes.

He stooped slightly, so they were eye level. His other hand came up to rest on her neck. “Sweetheart, you could never disappoint me.”

A slow smile spread across her face as she thrilled at his use of the word _sweetheart._ It seemed completely incongruous with his general surly appearance and demeanor. 

He started to say, “We don’t have to do this tonight,” but Robin cut him off with a kiss. It started out sweet and tender, then quickly turned lascivious. 

“Never Let Me Go” was still playing. It seemed to fuel their lust, pushing them further into the sweet abyss of desire.

Cormoran was thrusting his tongue in and out of her mouth in a most _suggestive_ way. Robin caught it between her teeth and bit just hard enough to be slightly painful. _So, she likes to play games_. He filed that away for future reference. There was plenty of time to explore each other’s fantasies. Cormoran couldn’t wait to discover the full expanse of Robin’s carnal desires, but not tonight. He didn’t want to just fuck her. Tonight…. Tonight he wanted to make love to her.

She pulled him backwards onto her bed. He hovered over her, looking into her eyes, the scene reminiscent of her dream. She held her breath. _Was he about to…._

He didn’t say the words she both longed for and was terrified of hearing. _Too soon._

Instead he kissed her again and ground his erection against her. Robin unbuttoned his shirt and tangled her fingers in the curls on his chest. He was definitely hairier than in her dream, but not in an unappealing way. She found his hair to be a sexy contrast to Matthew’s teenage-like chest. _Don’t think about that._

Suddenly Cormoran muttered a frustrated “Fuck!” and rolled off of her onto his back. For one wild moment, Robin thought that he had already spilled himself, or had perhaps heard her thinking about her ex-husband. One arm flopped over his eyes as he groaned, “I don’t have any condoms.”

Robin laughed with relief that he wasn’t finished yet, but then she remembered…. _Bugger_.

He was looking at her, hopeful. “Are you…?”

Sounding completely dejected, she said, “No I stopped taking birth control when I left Matthew. Bugger!”

They lay in frustrated silence for a moment. Robin sat up suddenly, excited. “There’s a shop down the street. I think they’re open late.” She stood up and straightened her clothing, looking for her shoes.

“I’ll go with you,” Cormoran said, buttoning his shirt.

“No, it’s okay, I’ll just pop down real quick.”

“Nah, I have to make sure you get the right size.” Cormoran gave her a mischievous grin and winked at her. Robin felt her face flush, making Cormoran’s smile widen.

They walked to the shop, hand in hand, both giddy with anticipation. Robin’s eyes widened and she gave a small squeak when he picked up a box of Magnums. She thought he had been teasing her. He simply waggled his eyebrows at her in a suggestive manner and strode confidently up to the check out. She skittered along after him, trying to hide her embarrassment. 

Her chagrin eased as he wrapped an arm around her and slid his hand into her back pocket as they walked. She leaned into his shoulder and inhaled his scent. Their gate was slightly awkward as they walked back in this configuration, but neither could seem to pull themselves away. Now that Strike was allowed to touch her, he didn’t want to stop.

They walked up the stairs to her room, interlacing their fingers, anticipation and desire heavy in the air. Music was still playing over the flat’s smart speakers, “We Sink” by Of Monsters and Men.

_As I sink into the open sea_

_Color in my sheltered mind_

_Fill the gap between you and I_

In her bedroom, Cormoran repeated his previous move of kissing the back of her neck. Taking his cue from her earlier playfulness, he lightly nipped at her skin then bit a little harder, just enough to be pleasurable. Robin moaned and ground her arse into him. He slowly lifted her shirt over her head, tossed it aside, and kissed down her shoulder.

Robin turned, pulled his shirt from his trousers, and fumbled with his buttons. He helped her to unbutton it and relaxed his arms as she pushed it from his shoulders. He leaned his head back and closed his eyes as she trailed light kisses across his chest. He kissed her, slow and deep, as he cupped her breasts. Robin shimmied out of her jeans before undoing his trousers and pushing them down past his knees.

Cormoran sat on the bed to remove his shoes and pull his trousers the rest of the way off, then he removed his prosthesis and set it aside. He reached for Robin to pull her near, but she stopped just beyond his full reach. Gazing at him with hooded eyes, she reached around her back and unhooked her bra, letting it fall to the floor. She wished she had been wearing sexier knickers for the occasion, not the more functional pair she was wearing. But the look of pure longing on Cormoran’s face told her it didn’t matter. Robin stepped into his waiting arms.

Cormoran had always been more of an ass-man, but the gorgeous pair of breasts in front him were enough to convert him. They weren’t perfect; she had a small mole next to her right nipple, and they were almost imperceptibly asymmetrical. Matthew had often commented on these imperfections, suggesting that she get the mole removed or try inserts in her bra so that each cup fit evenly. But Cormoran was cupping and kissing her breasts with such reverence that all of her insecurities were washed away.

Robin knelt in front of him and pulled his boxer shorts down, allowing his erection to spring free. She saw now that he wasn’t kidding about needing the Magnums, he really was quite large. She supposed that given the size of the rest of him, this shouldn’t be a surprise. Keeping both hands on his thighs, she lowered her head and engulfed him with her mouth. 

Cormoran nearly came when she looked into his eyes, her mouth full of his impressive cock. She wasn’t able to get much of his length into her mouth. He looked forward to teaching her some tricks to take more of him, but not now. _There’s time for that later_. His need for her was becoming unbearable. He almost came undone again when she swirled her tongue around his tip.

He pulled her up to straddle him. Voice gravelly, he said, “As wonderful as that is, I’m afraid I’ll embarrass myself if you don’t stop.”

He leaned back and pulled her down with him. Robin remembered that she hadn’t shaved in a couple of days and was suddenly apprehensive as Cormoran ran his hands up and down her legs. Cormoran noticed the hair, of course, but he didn’t mind it. He was so pleased to finally be able to touch her. He rolled her onto her back and kissed all the way from behind her ear to just below her bellybutton. He pealed her knickers down her legs and tossed them behind him. Needing a quick taste of her, he licked her clit, then suckled it. He gave her a few more quick licks, then looked up at her and said, “I’m sorry, but I don’t think I can wait any more.”

She raked her fingers through his hair and moaned, “Me neither. I need you now.”

Cormoran reached for his trousers and dug the condoms out of the pocket. He quickly sheathed himself and hovered over her, prodding at her waiting entrance. He breathed, “You sure?”

She nodded and he eased into her. He held back a little, not sure if she would be able to take his full length. She wrapped her legs tightly around him and grasped his shoulders. She gasped as he pushed in a little further. Looking down into her eyes, he gave her a quick kiss and muttered, “You okay?”

“Very okay. Please don’t stop.”

He began thrusting gently, not wanting to hurt her. She just grasped him tighter and moaned. Her sounds were adorably sexy, spurring him on. He moved faster, watching for any signs of discomfort, but apparently he needn’t worry. Her moans were almost his undoing. Determined to hold out for her, he desperately tried to think un-sexy thoughts, but her sounds of pleasure weren’t making it easy.

He was fucking her in earnest now as she arched and writhed against him. He could tell she was getting close. He applied what he considered to be his “signature move”, extending his legs straight behind him in a partial up dog pose. He was only able to accomplish short thrusts in this position, but it changed the angle so that his pelvis was now rubbing against her clit and he was thrusting directly against her g-spot. He rasped, “Come for me. Come for me, baby.”

She obeyed his command almost immediately, with a long high-pitched wail. He lost all control when she gasped his name. He gave an unintelligible manly cry as he tumbled over the precipice after her, finding his own sweet release.

He continued to move slowly inside of her, riding the aftershocks of their bliss. He pulled out only when he felt himself begin to soften. Rolling over onto his back, he removed the condom and dropped it on the floor, not caring where it landed. Robin sprawled across him, resting her head on his shoulder and tangling her legs with his. Neither knew how long they lay like that, but eventually Robin got up to use the loo. She came back with a warm cloth and gently cleaned him. He closed his eyes and smiled, perfectly content.

Cormoran rolled towards her and very sleepily muttered, “I should probably go out and check for the stalker.”

Robin was kissing his neck and chest, running her fingers along his spine. He smiled.

“Or not. I could use a smoke, though.”

Not really wanting to get dressed or put his prosthesis on, he hobbled over to the window, opening it as wide as it would go. He settled for searching what he could see of the street from here, blowing smoke out into the night sky. The street was quiet, dark, and empty.


	5. Games

Robin woke the next morning to her pillow tickling her nose. As she gradually came to, she realized that her “pillow” was Cormoran’s chest and it was his hair tickling her. She looked up to see that he was already awake, gazing at the ceiling with one arm behind his head, the other arm wrapped around her. 

“Finally, you’re awake.” He kissed her on the forehead. He smirked as he wiped at the corner of her mouth and said, “I know I’m devilishly good looking, but you don’t need to drool.”

Embarrassed, Robin quickly wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, then noticed a small wet patch in his chest hair. She mopped it up as she muttered her apologies.

Cormoran laughed, “I don’t mind. Actually, I can think of some more places you can drool on if you’d like.” His morning wood twitched against her leg. 

He had hoped to see her blush, but Robin just quirked an eyebrow at him and responded, “After breakfast, I’m starving.”

Cormoran growled and rolled over on top of her, pinning her hands above her head. He lightly nipped at her earlobe and huskily muttered, “I thought I was supposed to be the boss here.”

His eyes widened in surprise when Robin broke his hold and managed to flip him off of her. She quickly swung a leg over his hips and straddled him, pinning his hands above his head. “I thought we were supposed to be partners.” Now she was nipping his earlobe.

“Holy fuck, where’d you learn how to do that?”

She grinned triumphantly at him. “Self-defense class. I told you I can take care of myself.”

He chuckled, “I’m sorry I ever doubted you. Now that I’m at your mercy, what are you going to do with me?”

“I can think of a few things.” She ground her arse against him. 

With her hands above his head, her breasts were dangling in front of his face. He lifted his head and caught one nipple in his mouth, flicking it with his tongue. 

Robin moaned and rocked her hips, sliding her wetness up and down his length. Cormoran bit her nipple.

“Ouch! Too hard!”

“Then quit teasing me and get a condom,” he growled in response.

Robin rolled the condom over him painfully slowly, torturing him further. Still straddling him, she positioned him at her entrance. Head thrown back, she slowly sank over him down to the hilt. She lifted up and repeated the agonizingly slow movement.

Cormoran squeezed her breasts and hissed, “Fuck, Robin, I might not last very long.”

“Then I’m going to need a little help.”

She leaned over and searched in her nightstand. She sat back up and brandished a small bullet shaped vibrator at him. He took it from her, switched it on, and held it against her clit. She threw her head back and starting riding him, her hands on his thighs. 

Cormoran watched in fascination as she chased her orgasm. He tried to focus on keeping the vibrator in the spot she seemed to like most. His other hand groped her breast, supporting it, while his thumb circled her nipple. As she was getting closer, her movements started to falter. He took over, bucking up into her. When she took the vibrator from him and rubbed herself with it, his orgasm erupted unexpectedly. He grasped her hips and continued to thrust up into her. Seconds later she cried out, riding him to her completion before collapsing onto his chest.

Morning mouth forgotten, he kissed her and mumbled against her mouth, “Bloody hell, that was hot.”

She gave him a satisfied grin, collected the used condoms as she stood up, and announced that she was heading into the shower. She glanced back at him over her shoulder and with a cheeky look said, “Feel free to join me.” 

He heard Demi Lovato’s “Games” coming from the bathroom before the shower turned on. _Oh, this was definitely a game he wanted to play_. His cock wasn’t quite ready for another round yet, once again reminding him that he wasn’t twenty anymore. He contented himself with leaning against the sink and watching Robin wash herself. 

He wasn’t sure how they had suddenly gone from friends to….whatever this was. He knew what _he_ wanted this to be, but what did Robin have in mind? She wasn’t the type to have a fling, obviously, but she had just ended a long-term relationship, a marriage. Was she looking to sow her oats? _Surely not._ But he was suddenly apprehensive all the same. 

***

Robin lingered in the shower, enjoying the hot water. She thought back over the events of last night, a sappy grin on her face as she remembered that first kiss. She had never been so overwhelmed by a kiss before. She had certainly never gone weak in the knees like that. Matthew wasn’t a bad kisser, but Cormoran…. When he kissed her, somehow the world melted away and all that was left was Cormoran. He enveloped her with his scent, his warmth, his strength, the magnetic pull of his tongue sliding over hers. And the way he had sucked on her tongue…. That was definitely new. 

She also marveled at how easily he had brought her to orgasm – twice. It was never like that Matthew. It wasn’t that she _never_ had an orgasm with Matthew, but it wasn’t that frequent. Not having anything to compare it to, she at first assumed that was normal. But then she would hear her girlfriends talking about the amazing sex they had, and she started to wonder if there was something wrong with her. Maybe she just didn’t get off that easily? Of course, Matthew didn’t exactly help her out in that department. She was only starting to realize just how selfish he really was. She had eventually bought her silver bullet, not that she let him know about it. She rolled her eyes as she imagined what Matthew would have said about that little item. But she had sensed that Cormoran wouldn’t mind. _He thought it was hot._

She stepped out of the shower and found the object of her musings gazing at her appreciatively. 

“I thought I told you to join me.”

“Sorry, I was enjoying the show.”

“Still enjoying it?”

She was toweling off, the movements causing her breasts to bounce and jiggle. Cormoran made a salacious noise in the back of his throat.

“Very much.”

Robin leaned in to give him a chaste kiss.

“Well I’m still starving, so hurry up and get dressed.”

***

Strike was finally enjoying his first morning cigarette on the front steps while Robin finished drying her hair. There were quite a few pedestrians passing. He scanned each face carefully but saw no sign of the stalker. He had either scared him off or the man didn’t know where she lived. 

There was a nice little park across the street. Strike could see a few people strolling along the path or walking their dogs. An older man was feeding the birds. Just as he was thinking it would be a nice spot for a picnic, Robin joined him on the steps. He casually put an arm around her as he ground out his cigarette. Robin steered them towards her favorite breakfast spot, Strike silently hoping they did a full English.

***

They sat huddled together on the sofa watching the evening football match. Robin had her legs resting across Cormoran’s lap and he was absently stroking the side of her knee with his thumb. Robin had been trying to read her book but was too distracted. Cormoran had been rather quiet since this morning, a faraway look in his eyes. The football animated him a bit, but he didn’t seem all that interested in the match, despite Arsenal winning. 

She was afraid to ask, but couldn’t stop herself. “Is something wrong?”

Her voice seemed to have startled him. He shook his head slightly, as if coming out of a daze.

“Wha’? No, everything’s fine.”

She gave him a look that clearly said she didn’t believe him.

He clarified, “Just worried. About the stalker.”

In truth, he had been thinking about the direction of their relationship. How serious did she want to be? How serious did _he_ want to be? What would happen to their business if things…fell apart? She understood the nature of the job, but would she eventually be upset by the hours he sometimes kept? Isn’t that what women did? Pretend everything is fine but secretly hope to change him? _Robin wouldn’t do that_. Would she?

And then what about the future? He didn’t want children, he didn’t even like children. He was too old for her. She deserved someone younger, someone who could give her everything she wanted, someone _whole_. Maybe they could go back to being friends. He wasn’t sure he could survive letting her go, but if that was what was best for her….

Robin either sensed the direction of his thoughts, or she was also contemplating their relationship. She moved to rest her head against his shoulder, not wanting to look him in the eye as she asked, “Cormoran, should we talk about us?”

Not wanting to sound too presumptuous, she added, “Is there an ‘us’?”

He squeezed her and huffed, “I certainly fucking hope so.”

She smiled at him and kissed him on the cheek. “What happens at the office? Should we tell people about us?”

“I don’t see a reason to keep it a secret. Unless you’re ashamed of me, of course.” He added this last bit teasingly. “Nick and Ilsa will be thrilled, they’ve been on me for ages. As for work, I guess we crack on like normal.”

Robin snuggled back into his shoulder. She knew that Cormoran had always managed to keep his work and private life separate. He always maintained the utmost professionalism, even regarding their friendship in the office. _This could work_. However, she also knew that he had a tendency to be overly protective of her. There were times in the past when he had made excuses to keep her away from what he thought might be a dangerous job. Would he still allow her to do the work she so greatly enjoyed, or would he turn like Matthew and insist she get a boring but safe desk job? _Cormoran wouldn’t do that. He knows how much this job means to me._ She hoped.

They didn’t make love that night. They held each other, relishing the intimacy, unwittingly calming the other’s fears. Each kiss, each caress pulled them closer, strengthening their connection. Both tried to convey through touch the depth of their feelings. Both wanted to say those three words that meant so much, but not enough. _Soon_.


	6. Love Lies

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll get back to the stalker eventually. I just thought these two deserved a happy weekend to explore their new relationship.  
> If you haven't made a playlist yet, you definitely should. This song is especially fun. 😉

Sunday they played tourist in their own city. They took a bus tour, seeing London from a new perspective. They took pictures by Big Ben and had a picnic in Hyde Park. They kissed as they lounged in the grass, lost in their own world, oblivious to passers-by.

Later that evening they were in the kitchen, cleaning up their takeaway boxes. Robin had selected some R&B music and was swaying her hips in a way that was bringing _all_ of Cormoran to attention. He came up behind her and wrapped his arms around her middle. She turned the music up and pushed back into him, grinding to the beat. _Maybe he would get that lap dance after all._

He swayed with her as he whispered in her ear, “Do you remember our first kiss?”

“I don’t know, it was so long ago,” she teased.

He nibbled on the back of her neck. “You don’t know how badly I wanted to bend you over the counter.”

“Like this?” She bent forward, leaning her elbows on the countertop and pushing her arse up into the air.

Robin’s audacity never ceased to amaze him. She could be sweet and demure one minute, then confidently erotic the next. She was casting a spell over him, constantly keeping him guessing.

His hands reached under her shirt to grasp her breasts. She could feel he was already hard. Turning her head to kiss him, she unbuttoned her jeans and slipped them down over her hips. He fumbled with his belt, clumsy in his haste. He took a condom from his pocket and allowed his jeans to pool around his ankles. 

With a hand on her hip, he impaled her in one quick, deep thrust. She lifted off her shirt and unhooked her bra, giving him better access to her breasts. She moaned as he pinched her nipples and continued to nip at her neck as he pounded into her, wild with lust. 

His legs were starting to shake from having to crouch slightly. He pulled out of her and took her to the table. It was a little higher, giving better access. Robin lay back on the table and Cormoran grabbed her hips, grinding into her to the beat of “Love Lies” by Khalid. 

_It’s not easy for someone to catch my eye_

_But I’ve been waitin’ for you for my whole damn life_

They were both breathless, moving with wanton abandon. Clouded eyes locked together, they allowed the music to fill them, controlling their movements, quenching their thirst for each other.

They were so consumed by passion that they didn’t hear the front door open. Robin screamed when Tristan walked into the kitchen. Cormoran collapsed on top of her, trying to hide her body. There was no helping his arse, which was in full view.

“Tristan! I thought you were coming back tomorrow!”

“Andrew and I broke up, so I came back early.” His eyes were twinkling, all too amused with the situation. He suppressed a laugh and said, “I’ll just leave you to it, then.”

As he turned to leave the kitchen, he called back over his shoulder, voice full of barely contained mirth, “Make sure you clean up after. I eat at that table you know.”

Robin was mortified. “Oh my god, I’m going to have to move again. He will never let me live this down.”

Cormoran was still covering her, his face buried in her neck. He gave a small chuckle, finding the situation slightly humorous, despite having his bare arse on display. “Don’t worry, you can move in with me.”

_Did I just ask her to live with me?_ He hadn’t really meant it to come out that way. Certain they weren’t ready for that step yet, he desperately hoped she hadn’t noticed what he said. _What if she says yes?_ He imagined her filling his space, coming home to his flat smelling of her perfume, waking up with her every morning. _Please say yes._

_You can move in with me_. Robin’s heart skipped a beat. She felt him stiffen slightly as he realized what he’d said. She was paradoxically relieved and disappointed at the same time. She had just gotten out of a marriage, she didn’t think she was ready to live with someone yet. But part of her was disappointed that Cormoran seemed to be afraid she might say yes. She decided to let them both off the hook.

“And deprive Tristan the opportunity of taking the mickey every bloody day? Nah.” She felt him smile against her neck as he continued to nuzzle her.

“So should we finish up here or go upstairs?”

“Well we’re already here….” Cormoran kissed her gently as he slowly started to move inside her.


	7. Hungry Like the Wolf

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, back to the plot.

Tristan had thankfully made himself scarce the rest of the evening. They went to bed sated and ridiculously happy, like two fools in love.

Not wanting to spoil the rest of their evening, Strike decided to wait until they were at the office the next day to broach the topic of work assignments. Though their work and private lives were now intertwined, he was determined to keep the two compartmentalized. He got to work in his inner office, with Robin at her desk as usual. She switched on the radio to an ‘80s station while she sorted through the mail. Strike was blowing smoke out of the window, trying to work out how to get Robin to take over the banker case when he heard something crash to the floor.

He popped his head out to see what had happened. Robin was standing with her hand in the air, a mug broken at her feet and tea splattered over her shoes. She was holding an open envelope in the other hand, her face white as a ghost.

“Robin? Are you okay?”

“Got a package,” she said mechanically.

His mind returning to the moment when she had been sent a leg in the mail, he rushed over to her and took the envelope. There was a note and several pictures. The pictures caught his attention first. They were all from this weekend. He and Robin in the Tottenham. He and Robin walking down the street with their arms around each other after buying condoms. Him smoking out of her window, shirtless. Another of him smoking outside her flat the next morning. Both of them kissing in the park. He looked at the note, which contained two words. 

**_I know._ **

He tossed the lot onto her desk and pulled her into a tight hug. He noticed the envelope didn’t have a post mark, and it was addressed to Robin. _It was hand delivered._

Duran Duran’s “Hungry Like the Wolf” was playing on the radio.

_In touch with the ground_

_I’m on the hunt, I’m after you_

_Smell like I sound, I’m lost in a crowd_

_And I’m hungry like the wolf_

The world seemed to darken and her lungs stopped working as her panic set in. Strike was whispering to her, helping her to control her breathing. Scenes of a masked a figure flashed through her mind, encouraged by the music that seemed to pound in her ears. A voice, _Do I know you little girl?_ A knife cutting her arm. 

She tried to focus on Cormoran, move her chest up and down with his. She only noticed there were tears streaming down her face when he gently wiped them away. He steered her to the sofa, sat her down, and made her another mug of tea. He sat on the coffee table in front of her.

“Are you alright?”

She stared at the wall behind him, not meeting his eyes as she nodded.

“Robin?” He put a hand on her knee and waited for her to look at him. “We’ll figure this out. I promise you I won’t let anything happen to you.”

She nodded stiffly. “Drink,” he ordered, pointing at her tea. She took a sip, not tasting it. 

Strike picked up the pictures again. He hadn’t seen the stalker all weekend. How did he not notice anyone taking these photos? _This was no amateur_. 

He kept coming back to the photo of him smoking outside Robin’s flat on Saturday morning. Where could the stalker have been hiding without him noticing? It was the angle of the photo that really caught his attention. This had to have been taken from the park. He wracked his brain, trying to remember who could have been there to take this photo. _The old man_. Strike didn’t remember seeing a camera on the man. _His glasses_. He had been fiddling with his glasses. Robin called them “spy glasses”. The pieces were starting to click into place. _Are they working together?_

“Robin…. Can you think of any reason a private investigator would be following you?”

She looked at him, stunned, and simply shook her head. He walked her upstairs to his flat where he poured her a small glass of whiskey. Once she was out of the office and surrounded by all things Cormoran, she began to collect herself. Her brain was starting to think objectively, like a detective, helped along by the searing heat of the alcohol. Something had registered in the depths of her mind when she had read the note, before her panic took over. 

She asked him to fetch the envelope of photos, so she could examine them again. She seemed to be in control once again, so he agreed. She looked at each photo carefully, trying to see them through the eyes of an impartial detective. The photos weren’t really of her, she noted. They were of Cormoran. There were no photos of just her. She looked at the note again. She recognized the handwriting. It looked as if he had tried to disguise it, but she was certain.

“Matthew did this.”

“Why? Do you think this is his way of trying to win you back?” Cormoran wasn’t surprised the slimy git would have her followed, but what could possibly be his motivation?

“I don’t know. But it seems like he’s telling me he knows about us.”

Strike silently agreed with her. “But why would he care? Your divorce is already final.” He bit back all the names he wanted to call Matthew, more out of habit than politeness.

Robin hesitated. “He always thought there was something going on between us. But you’re right, I don’t know why he...” Robin trailed off mid sentence, a thought suddenly occurring to her. “I need to talk to him.”

She started to pull out her cellphone, but Cormoran stopped her, feeling extra cautious. “Use the office phone.”

Matthew picked up and Robin said, rather coolly, “I got your package.”

Silence.

“Want to tell me what this is about?”

More silence.

Cormoran came on, trying to keep his voice level, “Matthew, this is Strike. Why don’t you come to the office today and we can discuss this like adults.”

They heard Matthew huff on the other end of the line, then he spat, “Of course he’s there.”

Sounding as pleasant as he could, Strike responded, “Well yes, it is my office. What do you say? You obviously wanted Robin’s attention and now you’ve got it. So why don’t you come in to talk about it?”

“Fine. I’ll be there at 5:30.” The line went dead.

***

It was a little after noon now, and Strike walked across the street to get them sandwiches. He didn’t see the old man or the stalker. The more he thought about it, he didn’t think the two were connected. There had been no photos of Robin on surveillance. He thought back to the picture of them in the Tottenham on Friday. It was the wrong angle to have been taken from the table by the door, which meant the old man was also there. If they were working together, there would be no reason for them both to be in the pub.

He had an idea forming. But who could he ask? Barclay was already on assignment. Hutchins was on holiday. He lingered outside to smoke a cigarette and decided to call Shanker.


	8. Sorry, Not Sorry

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Strike has a much anticipated confrontation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I will be severely disappointed if this never happens in canon.

Robin spent much of the afternoon contemplating Matthew’s motivation for having her followed. One question she needed answered was how long ago he had hired this private detective. It seemed like a lot of money to spend just to feel vindicated in thinking that Robin and Strike were together. The money is what stuck out strongest in her mind. 

Their divorce had been over fairly quickly, but only because Robin had relinquished many of her rights. Matthew had come out ahead in the deal, but ever the narcissist, she knew that he still wasn’t happy with the outcome. He insisted that he had only had an affair with Sarah because he was convinced that Robin was doing the same with Strike _. It wasn’t my fault_ , he had claimed.

Matthew had accumulated a significant amount of credit card debt that Robin hadn’t known about. It was really quite shocking, considering he was an accountant. But his vanity had been costly. He had tried to buy his way into higher social circles, purchasing clothes, jewelry, dinners, and all manner of things he couldn’t afford. He even went to the most expensive salon he could find just to get his hair cut. 

Thankfully some of the credit cards were solely in his name, so her solicitor had managed to spare her from sharing those expenses. But quite a bit of the debt, for which Robin was now partially responsible, came from their joint account. Being the accountant, Matthew had naturally managed their banking, keeping Robin in the dark.

Against the advice of her solicitor, Robin had signed over her half of the flat they had shared. She wanted nothing to do it, and just wanted it out of her life as quickly as possible. She couldn’t stand the reminder that her husband had been unfaithful in that flat, in their own bed. In hindsight, the sale of the flat could have significantly reduced her debt. 

Really the only thing she gained from the divorce, apart from her freedom, was alimony. She hadn’t wanted it, wanted nothing to do with Matthew’s money, or lack thereof. It felt like she was still tethered to him somehow. But her solicitor insisted, given Matthew’s infidelity. She had eventually agreed, just to have it done with. Now that modest monthly payment was the only thing helping her make a dent in her debt, or rather Matthew’s debt as she preferred to think of it. 

_I know._

Was he trying to blackmail her? Did he want money from her? She thought that was the most likely explanation, but it seemed like a pointless venture. A single woman and a single man starting a relationship was hardly scandalous. What would be the grounds for blackmail?

It was almost 6 o’clock before Matthew made it to their office. Robin imagined he was deliberately trying to inconvenience them. She had told herself that she was not going to let him get to her, she would maintain a cool and detached exterior. Those plans evaporated as soon as he walked in with a smug look on his face. Strike saw Robin’s face darken and squeezed her hand in encouragement. The sight of their interlocked fingers somehow made Matthew’s expression become even smugger.

Strike sensed danger in the air and so he took over before the shouting could begin. “Matthew, thank you for coming.” He tried and failed to sound polite. “Let’s get to it, shall we? When did you hire a detective to follow Robin?”

“About two weeks ago,” Matthew said, looking very arrogant.

Strike asked the most important question, “And it was just the older man? Did he have a partner?”

“Not that I’m aware of.” Matthew sounded slightly confused by the question, but was determined to maintain his air of superiority.

“Why did you send Robin these photos?”

“I always knew there was something going on between you.” His voice was full of malice, his face twisted into an ugly sneer. He was thoroughly enjoying the disquiet he had obviously caused his ex-wife and her lover. 

Robin found her voice. “Matthew, we’re not married anymore. These were all taken this weekend. Why would you care who I’m seeing now?”

Matthew didn’t answer, but continued to sneer. Robin’s irritation was getting the better of her. Knowing these little games could go on for a while, she decided to cut to the chase.

“Are you planning on blackmailing me?” 

Strike’s head whipped around to look at Matthew, his eyes narrowing into slits. Robin hadn’t shared that suspicion with him. Matthew’s sneer faltered, to be replaced by a look of disgust and a hint of fear. Robin continued thinking out loud.

“No, that can’t be it can it? Cormoran and I being together doesn’t really give you leverage for anything does it?” Matthew had flinched at the phrase “Cormoran and I”.

An idea had just occurred to her. She remembered Matthew’s persistence in maintaining his innocence throughout their divorce, and his displeasure in the settlement they had finally reached.

“You’re going to try to appeal the divorce settlement. What’s wrong? Sarah doesn’t like your paying me alimony?” Now it was her turn to sneer. She knew she should not rise, but she hadn’t been able to stop herself.

At the mention of Sarah’s name, Matthew’s face crumpled. He began to cry. Robin wrinkled her nose in disgust at his pathetic figure.

“Sarah’s left me. She…she told me she was pregnant,” he stammered.

Strike let out an exasperated sigh. Robin’s face became stony. “And it’s yours, I’m guessing, not her husband’s.”

Matthew looked pitiful, but Robin and Strike felt only revulsion. He would receive no sympathy here. “I told her to get an abortion. My reputation had already been ruined by the divorce. I couldn’t add an illegitimate child the list. She got mad and threatened to sue for child support. I can’t pay both, I’d be penniless.”

Robin shook her head, repulsed by the idea that she had once loved this wretched twat. 

“I’ll agree to a resettlement under one condition. I get sole ownership of the flat. You can keep your alimony.”

Matthew’s demeanor took an abrupt turn. He became hateful and snide once more, practically spitting the words, “Why, so you can have a nice fuck pad to whore around in?”

Strike shot out of his seat. Voice quiet but deadly, he said, “Watch your mouth! She’s offered you a fair deal, now take it and get the fuck out!”

Matthew’s sneer was back in place. “Fine, but when you’re shagging her in _our_ bedroom, just remember,” he leaned forward, getting in Strike’s face, “I fucked her first.”

Strike’s fist connected with Matthew’s nose, right between his eyes. Strike felt a satisfying crunch as the nose broke. Robin screamed as Matthew crumpled to floor, not knocked unconscious, but completely dazed. He lay on the floor, nose bleeding, eyes rolling back in his head. After a contemptuous look at the prone figure, Strike began dragging him out the door. Robin rushed to help, and together they drug Matthew down the stairs, none too gently, and unceremoniously dumped him on the pavement outside. 

***

Upstairs in Strike’s living room, they enjoyed a celebratory drink. Confident that Matthew would be too frightened to cross Strike again, they toasted Robin’s impending financial freedom in selling the flat. As the alcohol continued to flow, they toasted increasingly silly things, such as late night condom runs and broken noses.

Robin leaned into Cormoran’s shoulder, feeling rather pleased with herself, and replaying the punch in her head over and over again. She sighed contentedly, thinking of the fanbloodytastic playlist she would make for herself to commemorate the occasion. She smiled into her drink. First on the list? Her girl Demi Lovato’s “Sorry, Not Sorry”.


	9. We Sink

In the afterglow of their shared victory, it seemed the most natural thing in the world for Strike to ask Robin to stay over that night. As they lounged on his sofa, cuddling and kissing, it occurred to him that he had already broken two of his self-imposed rules, “no consecutive sleepovers” and “only at hers”. This would now be the fourth night in a row that they had spent together. 

Whereas he would usually be relieved to return to his own space, alone, the thought of them sleeping separately tonight was repugnant to him. He found that Robin somehow improved his personal space. His bed seemed bigger and more comfortable with her in it. With Robin by his side, he felt more at home in his own flat than he ever had before. 

She made his life better in every way. Without her, his life was a completed puzzle with one crucial piece missing; whole, but inadequate and dissatisfying. He knew that he had grown very fond of her. But it was only now, on his sofa, that he realized he was dangerously close to breaking his third and most important rule. 

He had vowed that after his tumultuous relationship with Charlotte, he would never tell a woman that he loved her until he was ready to offer his whole life to her. His love for Charlotte had ironically become the gold standard by which he would judge every relationship. Yes, he had experienced his lowest, been at his rock bottom with Charlotte. But he had also experienced epic highs that had made every relationship since seem lackluster. If he were going to tell a woman that he loved her, his feelings would have to outstrip the highest peak he had ever reached with Charlotte.

He realized now, with Robin in his arms, that peak seemed like the smallest of specs on the ground as he soared high above it. He loved her, truly loved her. He had known it for a long time, but he never allowed himself to explore the depths of that love. As he kissed her, slow and deep, he allowed himself to fall further under her spell. He allowed her to possess him, mind, body, and soul. 

He thought of the song that had played the first time they made love, “We sink” by Of Monsters and Men. The line “as I sink into the open sea _”_ echoed over and over again in his mind. He was adrift, floating on the vast emptiness of the open ocean. Robin’s love was his life raft, protecting him from the crushing waves, carrying him to safety. But she was also the ocean, threatening to overturn him and pull him into the fathomless depths below. Loving her would either deliver him or it would destroy him.

He wanted to tell her how much he loved her, but the words felt inadequate. Instead, he held her as close as he could. He grazed his hand along the small of her back under her shirt, needing to feel her skin. He pulled her onto his lap to straddle him, kissing her hungrily. His lips crushed against hers, bruising in their intensity. 

He needed to be inside her, to be as close to her as he could possibly be. They made love on the sofa, and he held her tightly, fingers digging into her flesh. As he came, tears pricked the backs of his eyes, overcome by the power of his emotion.

***

As the evening was winding down, Robin started to feel apprehensive, wondering if she should excuse herself to go home. She knew Cormoran liked his privacy, so she wasn’t really sure if he would want her spending the night. The thought of returning home alone to her empty bed made her feel sad and hollow. But when he had asked her to stay, it was with no hesitation. She had smiled and said, “Of course.” 

As they cuddled and gazed into each other’s eyes, she felt as if something had shifted between them. They were no longer just friends that had slept together. She saw something different in his eyes, something deeper. The air between them was charged and electric. 

She noted how at home she felt here, in his space. The first time she had set foot in his flat she had felt like an intruder. But now, in his arms, she felt as if she belonged. 

She thought of how much she had changed since meeting him. He brought out qualities in her that she had hidden from other people. Her desire to join law enforcement, to bring justice for those that had been victimized, had been misunderstood and mocked by those closest to her. But Cormoran accepted it as a core part of her personality. He knew and understood her in ways no one else could. 

It was in this moment that she finally acknowledged the depth of her feelings for him. She loved him. Since she was being honest with herself, she noted that she had loved him for a long time. She loved him before she was married. She felt it when he had helped her in her severely drunken state into a hotel room; she felt it when he had visited her in the hospital when she had injured her arm; she felt it in the inadvertent kiss they had shared outside the hospital with Jack; and she felt it when they had hugged on the stairs of her disastrous wedding. 

She wasn’t exactly sure when she had stopped loving Matthew. It was so gradual that she didn’t even notice until their love had eroded away completely. When she had first loved him, it was simple, pure, and sweet. She had loved him for his handsomeness, his popularity, and the status he afforded her. As she matured, those things ceased to matter. The problem with Matthew was the she didn’t really even like him. And that was the difference. She realized that her love for Cormoran was deeper and more meaningful than anything she had ever felt for Matthew. The difference was friendship. 

She loved Cormoran in all aspects of his life. In business, she loved his intelligence, his keen eye for detail, his grit and determination, and his uncanny ability to intuit information. In friendship, she loved his wit and his loyalty. In romance, she loved his generosity, his kindness, and his tenderness. She loved him, wholly and completely.

As they made love on his sofa, she felt they had crossed some invisible threshold. Tonight wasn’t about pleasure, it was about intimacy and affection. When they climaxed together, she saw the moisture in his eyes and she fell impossibly deeper in love with him.


	10. One Way or Another

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The identity of the stalker is revealed.

Tuesday morning Robin realized that she didn’t have a change of clothes with her. Having had to put dirty knickers back on after her shower, Robin gratefully accepted Strike’s suggestion that she stay in the office and catch up on paperwork while he went out on surveillance. Neither mentioned the stalker, but Robin knew that was part of the motivation behind his suggestion. 

Strike started his morning rather early, getting to the bankers’ usual café around 7:30. He hoped he would be able to overhear their conversations from where he was sitting, but at the very least he would be able to take pictures. He was pleased to find that the café was actually rather close to Robin’s flat. He hoped she wouldn’t take it as an affront on her bravery when he suggested that she take over this case.

Back in the office, Robin spent the morning updating the file for Shop Girl. Strike texted her near lunch time with an update on the bankers, whose conversation had mostly consisted of possible investments. Their client was a senior partner in the banking firm, and she suspected that some of the younger associates had been making questionable, possibly illegal, trade deals outside of the office. Certain that he was going to suggest that she take over the case, Robin spent her afternoon researching the investment information that Strike had texted her. 

***

Strike spent that afternoon in yet another café, watching Shop Girl. _Pretending_ to watch Shop Girl would be a more accurate description, as he was actually keeping an eye on the stalker. Strike had been in the café for about an hour when he noticed the man sit down on the stoop opposite, reading his newspaper. Strike pretended to be engrossed in his book. The stalker sat on the stoop just long enough not to call attention to himself by immediately leaving, then casually walked back the way he had come. Strike received a text from Shanker.

**Still here. Looks like he’s trying to stay out of sight.**

Absorbed in his own thoughts, Strike had to remind himself to take at least some pictures of Shop Girl. In the background of the café, “One Way or Another” by Blondie was playing. 

_One way or another, I’m gonna find ya_

_I’m gonna get ya, get ya, get ya, get ya_

Strike wasn’t sure if he should see the song as encouragement or an omen. _If this fucker is following Robin, why is he still here?_ Was he hoping that Robin would eventually show up? Was he hoping that Strike would lead him to Robin? Were they wrong in concluding that this had anything to do with Robin?

Sooner than seemed to be possible, it was almost 5 o’clock and Robin texted to say that she needed to go home and get fresh clothes. After confirming with Shanker that the stalker was still nearby, Strike told her that he would call when he got back to the office. 

As he walked towards the tube station, he gave no indication that he knew the stalker was following him. In fact, Strike made himself an easy target. He was much more comfortable knowing where the man was. As long as the stalker was following him, Robin was safe. He followed Strike all the way back to Denmark Street, where he continued to watch the door to their building until after dark and he quietly vanished into the shadows.

***

On her way home, Robin realized that she and Cormoran had never really discussed the logistics of their new relationship. She was well aware that he normally did not spend multiple nights in a row with his girlfriends, but they had just spent several nights together. Would he be wanting some space now? They were moving very quickly. Perhaps it would be a good idea to slow down a bit. 

As if her thoughts had summoned him, Cormoran called her just as she was entering her flat. He seemed to have been thinking along the same lines she was, as he asked the non-committal question, “What are your plans tonight?”

“Since I never got around to laundry this weekend, it looks like I have an exciting evening of washing clothes. You?” There was a slight tension in the conversation, both simultaneously afraid of causing offense through rejection and of being too presumptuous. 

“It looks like I will be distracting the stalker this evening. He followed me home from watching Shop Girl. The good news is that I don’t think he knows where you live. The bad news is that I think he might be hoping I’ll lead him to you.”

“Do you want me to come protect you?”

Robin could hear his smile as he responded, “That is a very tempting offer, but I don’t think he’ll be able to break in.” More seriously, he added, “If I’m right and he’s hoping that I’ll help him find you, I think it might be a good idea if we don’t see each other for a few days. You can take over the banker case. It’s closer to your flat anyway. Then you won’t even need to come to the office.” 

Reminding herself that she had planned to change her routine anyway, Robin tried not to see this as an attempt to sideline her. She was slightly mollified when he added, “You’re better at this type of case than I am anyway.”

They fell into flirtatious banter until Cormoran announced that he was going to die if he didn’t eat soon. There was a moment of awkwardness as they said goodnight, both unsure what sentiment to use. Cormoran bit back the “I love you” that I had almost tumbled out. _Not over the phone_.

As soon as Robin hit the end call button, her phone starting ringing again. Her stomach flipped and her heart accelerated until she saw that it was her mother calling. She rolled her eyes and answered it, knowing it was unlikely she would get her laundry finished this evening.

***

By the time Strike was headed back to the office Wednesday evening, he was in a thoroughly bad mood. Though he had spoken to Robin last night and a few texts throughout the day, he was missing her terribly. His bed was cold and uninviting without her in it, and he wasn’t looking forward to another night without her. He hadn’t slept well, with dreams of shadowy figures lurking in dark corners, of frantically looking for Robin and being unable to find her, and finally of a roadside bomb exploding. From that last dream, he had woken drenched in sweat and gasping for air. Trying and failing to return to sleep, he had eventually gotten dressed and went downstairs to the office. It was still dark out.

He was irritated that Shanker had not yet been able to find out where the stalker lived or who he was. Shanker had no official training in surveillance, but was quite good nonetheless. However, he was outmatched by the stalker and had so far lost him on his way home. 

Strike’s annoyance deepened when he was awoken midmorning by Two Times barging into the office. Strike had fallen asleep in his chair and was completely unprepared for Two Times’ request for an update on his case. 

“Where’s your lovely assistant this morning?” Two Times asked with a somewhat lecherous grin.

“Partner,” Strike corrected him. “She’s on another case at the moment.”

“When will she be back? I would rather get the update from her, seeing as she is the one doing the work.” The look on his face told Strike that wasn’t the only reason Two Times wanted Robin to give the update. Strike was starting to agree with her, Two Times really was a creep.

“I’m afraid she won’t be back for a while. Lengthy assignment, very involved. I’m taking over your case for now.”

“I would really rather it be her. She does such good work. No offense to you, but I’ve been very pleased with the information she’s provided me thus far.” Two Times sounded rather cross. 

For reasons he couldn’t quite identify, the conversation was making Strike feel overly protective, almost possessive, of Robin. He would love nothing more than to ensure Two Times never see Robin again. Reminding himself that it would be unwise to sack such a loyal customer, Strike tried to appease him by promising to work something out with their cases, knowing that Two Times would be none the wiser.

***

Strike’s disposition temporarily improved when he called Robin that evening. He felt like a lovesick puppy, unable to make it 24 hours without hearing her voice. 

“Mum called last night to remind me about their wedding anniversary party this weekend.” She hesitated before shyly adding, “I was wondering if you might come with me? As my date?”

Strike felt a not all that unpleasant swooping sensation in his stomach. A weekend away together? Meeting the family? Of course, he had already met her family, but that had been as her colleague, not her boyfriend.

“I’d love to. I don’t think your mum is too keen on me, though.”

“Well she’s just going to have to get over it then, isn’t she?”

They laughed and teased each other a bit more, Cormoran asking if he would be allowed to stay with her or would he be made to sleep on the sofa. This turned the conversation toward more erotic topics, causing Robin to blush.

The improvement that the call to Robin had given his temperament evaporated when he was faced with sleeping alone once again.

***

Thursday morning Strike received a call from Shanker.

“Tell me you have some good news.” Strike was exhausted after another night’s poor sleep, but feeling optimistic in the face of a weekend away with Robin.

“Course I do, Bunsen. I told you I’d get it done.”

Heart racing, Strike said, “I’m assuming you’ve got an address for me?”

“I’ll do you one better, I’ve got his name too.”

“How the fuck did you manage that?” Strike was impressed.

“Just asked his neighbor. Older lady, very trusting.”

“Well? Who is he?” Strike was feeling impatient now.

“Name’s Charles Bateman. Lives in Croydon. Listen, Bunsen mate, I’ve heard of a bloke that goes by Bates. He does…odd jobs for people.”

“Illegal stuff?”

“From what I’ve heard, he’ll do anything if you pay him enough. I mean, I’m not one to turn down a couple hundred quid for a job, but I’ve got my limits.”

“Right, thanks Shanker. Speaking of, let me know when you’re coming round and I’ll give you the other half.”

“Well, I have put in some long hours on this one Bunsen, but seeing as it’s Robin, I’ll give you a discount.”

Strike chuckled, “Cheers. I’ll give you a bonus if you find out who he’s working for.”

After he rang off, Strike scoured the Internet for anything he could find on Charles or Charlie Bateman and the mysterious Bates. He found a couple of arrest records, including breaking and entering, assault, and possession of a weapon. Accumulating knowledge of a subject usually calmed him, made him feel in control. This morning’s research had the opposite effect. Strike wondered how Robin would react if he suggested that she take next week off and stay with her parents. Certain that wouldn’t earn him any points in her eyes, he decided to call Wardle.


	11. Fade Into You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just a little shameless smut. Enjoy 😉

Thursday afternoon Robin was sitting in her kitchen, finishing up her notes from the day’s surveillance on the bankers. She had some pretty good leads. She scheduled a meeting with their client for the following Tuesday. While the subjects definitely had some questionable ethics, she hadn’t seen anything so far that was technically illegal. Still, she had a feeling that after the client meeting on Tuesday, the bankers would be looking for employment elsewhere. 

She really was enjoying this case far more than taking boring pictures of Shop Girl, but there was a small part of her that wouldn’t let herself enjoy it. She knew it was unfair to him, but she had lingering feelings of resentment towards Strike for treating her like a fragile doll. There was an even smaller part of her mind that told her this resentment was actually displaced anger at Matthew, carried over from all the times he expressed annoyance with the job she loved. _Bugger it all, just let it go_.

She decided instead that her frustrations were actually a result of feeling cooped up at home and of not having seen Cormoran since Tuesday morning. _Two days. It’s been two days, get a grip_.

Just then, her phone rang. It was Cormoran. After much deliberation, he had decided to tell her that he had asked Shanker to play detective. He sounded strained as he filled her in on what he had discovered about Bates.

“Should we go to the police?” Robin asked.

“I’ve already called Wardle. He’s not familiar with Bates, but said that they can’t arrest someone for being dodgy. He snidely pointed out that Bates hasn’t done anything we don’t do every day. _Arsehole_.”

“So we just have to wait until he does something…illegal?” Robin hated how high-pitched her voice had sounded. 

Cormoran’s tone was softer, “Hey, don’t worry. I promise I won’t let this fucker anywhere near you. I’ve got Shanker trying to figure out who hired him, and Wardle said he would talk to some of the other detectives about Bates.”

Trying to change the subject, he added, “I can’t wait to see you tomorrow. Are you sure we shouldn’t get a hotel room this weekend? I don’t want to keep your parents up all night.”

Robin giggled, “It’s fine, my bed isn’t that squeaky.”

They finished discussing arrangements for the weekend. Still afraid of leading Bates to Robin’s flat, they agreed on a random location to meet up before driving out of town together. Neither wanted to end the call. They spent the entire evening on the phone, pretending they were together in the flesh. They ate dinner together, cleaned up together, and packed their weekend bags together. 

Lying in bed later that evening and absently stroking himself, Cormoran asked, “What knickers are you bringing this weekend? I like the little lacy green ones.”

“Actually, I was thinking of not bringing any at all.” Robin heard Cormoran growl.

“What are you wearing right now?”

Robin looked down at her holey, faded pajamas. _Nope_. “A white T-shirt and a sheer blue thong.”

Cormoran felt himself hardening and almost wished he hadn’t asked. He would never be able to sleep in this condition, picturing the soft curve of her arse peeking out from beneath the shirt. _Although_ … He had a feeling that she hadn’t been entirely truthful about her attire. _Maybe she wants to play?_

“What are _you_ wearing right now?” Robin asked.

Cormoran grinned. _She does want to play_. “Nothing at all,” he responded salaciously, although in his case, this was completely true. He added, “If I were there right now, what would we be doing?”

Robin could hear Cormoran’s radio in the background, playing “Fade Into You” by Mazzy Star. She got up to close her bedroom door. Tristan wasn’t home, but after getting caught in a very compromising position on Sunday, she was feeling a little more cautious.

“We would be on my bed, kissing, and you’d gently suck on my tongue. I love it when you do that.”

“Where would my hands be?” Comoran’s voice was deeper, huskier.

“You’d have one hand on my arse, and the other would be squeezing my breast.” Robin felt herself flush as she added, “And I’d be twirling my fingers in your chest hair with one hand, and stroking you with the other.”

Cormoran was gripping himself a little more firmly now, thoroughly turned on.

“Are you wet? Touch yourself and tell me if you’re wet,” he practically growled.

Robin’s response was soft and breathy, “Yes, I’m wet.”

Cormoran asked her to taste herself. He flicked his thumb over the head of his cock, listening to her soft moan as she sucked her finger. Then he instructed her to take out her little vibrator and rub herself with it. Robin put her phone on speaker, so she could have both hands free. 

Cormoran started pumping his fist more quickly when he heard the distant buzz of the little silver bullet. He told her to slip two fingers inside her and rub her g-spot. Robin worked both hands furiously, imagining that it was Cormoran’s fingers so expertly touching her. The both moaned loudly for the other’s benefit, as they continued to pleasure themselves. 

Cormoran came into his hand when he heard Robin’s sharp intake of breath as she shattered completely, moaning his name. 

They both sighed contentedly, basking in the afterglow of their mutual orgasms. After a few moments, Cormoran said, “I’m pretty sure I could get Bates off my tail, if you want me to come over. We could have another go.”

Robin gave a throaty chuckle. “That is tempting, but I have to get up early again tomorrow. I have a job to do you know.”

“Tomorrow then. Sleep well.” Cormoran’s voice was soft as velvet.

They said goodnight, and both fell into an easy, dreamless sleep.


	12. Love Me or Leave Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'm really sorry about this, but I truly believe we can expect a scene like this in the future.

Robin woke on Friday, anxious to get the day over with so she could leave town with Cormoran. She unwisely chose coffee to drink during her morning surveillance, which only made her feel more wired and restless. Her caffeine buzz seemed to last the entire day, making it difficult to concentrate on her paperwork that afternoon. 

Nervous anticipation was adding to her inability to focus. She had told her mum that she would be bringing Cormoran. Linda had tried to hide her displeasure, but Robin wasn’t fooled. Strike was right, whereas she had once been quite fond of him, Linda’s antipathy toward Strike had grown in the aftermath of the Shackelwell Ripper case, and subsequently the disastrous wedding.

Robin had wanted to leave town early that afternoon so they wouldn’t get to Masham too late, but Strike wanted to put in a full day’s surveillance on Shop Girl, still trying to appease Two Times. They wouldn’t be able to leave London until possibly after 6 o’clock. They should get to Masham near 11 at night. Robin’s parent’s said they didn’t mind, but she wanted to make a good impression with Cormoran. She was determined to show her mother that Cormoran was better than Matthew in every way. She wasn’t sure why her mother’s opinion was so important to her, but it was. Perhaps it was because Linda hadn’t jumped on the “Matthew is a twat” bandwagon the way the rest of her family had.

***

Just before 5 o’clock, Strike wrapped up his surveillance on Shop Girl and walked towards the tube station. He was once again followed by the very adept Bates, who was followed by the less professional but still capable form of Shanker.

Strike was surprised to see Bates get off at the next stop and switch trains. He immediately received a text from Shanker.

**He got a phone call. Looks like something’s up. Get to Robin ASAP.**

Strike waited rather impatiently for the train to reach his stop. While the train was still moving, he pushed his way to the door. He stumbled a bit and knocked into the back of a man standing near the door.

“Oi! Watch it!” The man turned around, took one look at Strike’s size and rather intimidating look of determination, and immediately turned back around to his companions.

Strike charged through the doors as soon as they opened and practically ran along Denmark Street to his flat. Pedestrians jumped out of his way, terrified of being flattened. He grabbed his weekend bag and called Robin as he took the stairs as quickly as he could. He filled her in on what Shanker had told him as he hailed a cab.

“Should I leave now then?”

“No, I’m in a cab now. Just stay inside. If he’s found out where you are, I don’t want you to run into him on the street. You’ll be safer inside.”

Strike promised the driver a large tip if he drove quickly, and they made it to Robin’s flat in record time. Just as Strike threw some cash at the cabbie, Shanker called.

“Sorry, Bunsen, lost reception for a bit. He’s nowhere near Robin’s. Went into a pub in Camden. Looks like he’s waiting on someone.”

Strike heaved a sigh of relief. “Good, keep me posted. Thanks, Shanker.”

As soon as Robin opened the door, Strike pulled her into a bone crushing hug. She relaxed against him, his size and warmth bringing her a sense of calm. She inhaled his scent, spicy cologne with a hint of tobacco. She relaxed even further when he told her that Bates was in Camden.

As he nibbled on her ear, Cormoran whispered, “I’ve missed you so much.”

Robin smiled and gave him a sweet, sensuous kiss. They both struggled to keep the kiss PG, elated at finally being together again, but very much aware that Tristan was in the kitchen preparing dinner for his date that evening. Music was issuing from the smart speakers, “Love Me or Leave Me” by Little Mix.

_You can take this heart_

_Heal it or break it all apart_

“Cormoran, I’ve been thinking,” Robin hesitated, bracing for the opposition that was sure to follow her next statement, “I think we should set up a trap to catch Bates and whoever hired him.”

Strike looked at her, confused and a little apprehensive. “Like what?” he asked hesitantly.

“I think we should use me as bait. Let them try…whatever it is they’re planning.”

“No. Absolutely not.” Strike looked aghast.

“But it’s like you said, isn’t it? They can’t be arrested until they’ve done something illegal. So let them try something illegal.”

“Robin, it’s not our job to arrest people or prevent crime. We need to leave it to the police.” He was sounding irritated now, his voice rising just a little.

Robin bristled. “But they could hurt someone!”

“Exactly, they could hurt you!” 

Robin just stared at him defiantly, hands on her hips, with her chin jutting out as her own anger continued to rise.

Strike was furious now. It was Brockbank all over again.

“Why are so willing to put yourself in danger?” He growled. “I won’t stand by and watch as the woman I love throws her life away because she’s too bloody stubborn to see sense! And don’t you dare go behind my back again. I can guarantee you Shanker won’t help you this time.”

Robin was too incensed to care that he had just said that he loves her. She didn’t appreciate the reference to her biggest, most regrettable mistake. This all felt too familiar, the doubt, the anger, the control, the lack of trust she had experienced throughout her engagement and marriage to Matthew. She couldn’t go down this road again.

“Do you trust me or not?”

“Of course I bloody trust you, Robin, but let’s face it. You don’t exactly have the best track record. Your desperation to prove yourself makes you reckless.” He regretted the words as soon as they left his mouth. She recoiled as if he had slapped her.

Her face became stony, but her voice shook with anger. “This is exactly the kind of thing Matthew would do. He would try to manipulate me and keep me from doing what I love. This is the job, Cormoran, sometimes it’s dangerous. I thought you all people would understand that.”

He rubbed a frustrated hand across his face. He was speechless at having been compared to that twat. He knew he was right, though. She was reckless, and she was too stubborn to see it.

“Robin, I do understand, but just let the police…” She cut him off angrily, “I need to be with someone who trusts me and trusts my judgement. I need to be with someone that respects me and supports my dreams.” Her voice was shaky now, eyes red as tears streamed down her face. “I’m going to Masham and I don’t want you to come with me.”

Cormoran felt like he had been punched in the gut. He had started to argue that he does respect her judgement and her dreams, but no words would come out. He was still reeling from having been compared to Matthew. All the air left his lungs in a sob. He didn’t realize he was also crying. 

He should have apologized for calling her reckless. He should have got down on his knees and begged for forgiveness. But she was right. He wasn’t good enough for her. She deserved more than he could give her. She deserved someone younger and more handsome, someone who had more to offer than a drafty attic flat. She deserved a nice home, a nice car, and a much better salary. How much danger had she faced since coming to work for him? He would only hold her back from the life she deserved, the life he wanted her to have, the life that could very well be cut short if she stayed with him. Hating himself for what he was about to do, he knew he had to let her go.

He wiped his nose with the back of his hand, attempted to arrange his features into a mask of anger, and spat, “Fine.”

“I think you should leave now. I want you to go.” Robin looked thoroughly miserable, but resolute.

Unable to stop himself, he reached up to touch her, but she stepped out of his reach. He pressed his mouth into a thin line and gave her a curt nod. With leaden feet he turned and walked out the door.

***

Back in his flat, Strike poured himself a couple fingers of whiskey and downed it one. He poured another glass and downed it too. He turned on his radio, hoping the whiskey and music would drown his thoughts and his pain. He fell into his chair and slumped forward. With his elbows resting on his knees, he hid his face in his hands, pulling at his hair.

“Wherever You Will Go” by The Calling was playing on the radio. Strike was transported back to Robin’s wedding, back to the hug they shared on the stairs. He could feel her in his arms, smell her hair. _Come with me._ He could have spared her the pain that Matthew caused her during their short marriage. Maybe he could have spared her the pain that he caused her tonight.

Suddenly he erupted with rage. He flipped his coffee table over and threw his glass at the sink, where it shattered into a million pieces. He picked up the traitorous radio and threw it against the wall. It rebounded and knocked over a lamp, creating a small pile of rubble and plunging the room into semi-darkness. He pounded his fists on the door until the pain in his hands overcame the pain in his chest. His outburst culminated with an almighty roar as he punched his fist into the wall as hard as he could, piercing the plaster. 

Exhausted and spent, he flopped back into his chair where he chugged whiskey straight from the bottle. His knuckles were now aching and bleeding. He relished the pain. This pain was easier to bear, unlike his heart, which felt as if it had been ripped from chest and left on the floor of Robin’s flat, far more battered and bruised than his knuckles. 

_This is the kind of thing Matthew would do._

He drank and drank, trying to wash her words from his head.

_I need to be with someone who trusts me, someone who respects me._

Somewhere in the back of his drunken mind, he recognized that she was right. He should trust her judgement. She had good instincts and she was always right, he told her so all the time. He knew that she loved this job, and she was good at it. She was an integral part of the success of the agency. He knew that it was unfair to throw her past mistakes back at her.

It occurred to him that he had told her he loved her. That wasn’t exactly how he had imagined telling her. She deserved to have those words whispered in her ear in a tender moment, not shouted at her across the room. 

He didn’t want to be like Matthew, always arguing with her, manipulating her, holding her back from a job she loved, a job that she was born to do. If he truly loved her, and he knew that he did, he would have to find a way to accept the dangers she would sometimes face. However, he couldn’t completely concede that he had been wrong. Though he shouldn’t have told her so, she was reckless. If their partnership and relationship was going to work, she would have to work on not being so reckless, and trust him not to stand in her way. He would have to work on keeping his personal feelings for her from interfering in her cases. If she would take him back, that is. She had made it clear that she didn’t want him.

If only he had had this conversation with her before she chucked him out. _Stupid fucker._

_Just call her and apologize_ , he told himself.

_No, I was right. This way is better for her_ , he countered.

He continued to argue with himself, promising his empty flat that he would be a better man. But then he would remind himself that she deserved more than he could give her. The more he drank, the more his pessimistic side won out, convincing himself that she wouldn’t appreciate his call right now.

And so he drank until he could no longer see her face in his mind’s eye, no longer smell her perfume. He drank until he passed out in his chair, and the empty whiskey bottle clattered to the floor beside him.

In his drink-induced state of unconsciousness, he didn’t hear the ring of his discarded phone.


	13. I Drove All Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Finally, we get to one of the two songs that inspired this fic. Strike's greatest fear is driving in cars, that is until he's faced with losing Robin.  
> The case of the stalker is solved, but the case was never really the point anyway. This was always meant to be more of a love story, with just a little mystery mixed in.

Strike woke around midmorning, stiff and sore from having passed out in his chair with his leg still attached. He stumbled to his bathroom, fuzzy and off-balance after having consumed the better part of a bottle of whiskey. He was putting on the kettle when he heard his phone ringing from somewhere. He finally found it on the floor, where it he had managed to kick it under his chair. He saw that it was Shanker, who wasted no time in berating him once he answered.

“Bunsen, what the fuck, mate? I know you’re with Robin, but you could have answered or at least called me back.”

Strike’s brain was still a bit addled, and he was having a hard time processing Shanker’s words.

“Shanker, wassup?” His voice sounded rough and dry, like sandpaper, and his words were slightly slurred by sleep and lingering drink.

“You pissed already mate? It’s 10 in the morning! Mind you, I’m not one to judge a man for a little day drinking, but aren’t you supposed to be impressing Robin’s parents?”

Strike didn’t feel like explaining the events of last night just now.

“Not pissed, just woke up. What do you want?” His question came out rather aggressive, and he had to remind himself that it wasn’t Shanker’s fault that he was _not_ with Robin or her parents just now.

“I tried to tell you last night. The bloke that Bates was meeting in Camden…. I recognized him. I saw him go in and out of your office building just the other day.”

Strike was wide awake and fully alert now. He thought back to the only other person that had entered their offices this past week. “Two Times. That pervy motherfucker,” he growled. “Thanks Shanker, drop by and I’ll get you your bonus.”

“Aren’t you in Masham?”

 _Fuck_. He tried to explain as nonchalantly as he could, but he didn’t quite manage to keep the anguish from his voice. “No, we… had a fight last night. She left without me.”

Strike didn’t appreciate the slight note of amusement in Shanker’s voice as he said, “Ah, so you are pissed. Well call her and fucking apologize already. Can’t let that one get away, Bunsen.”

Strike was feeling a little irritated and offended by Shanker’s assumption. “What makes you think it was my fault?”

“Because you’re a grumpy ol’ bastard. But it doesn’t matter, does it? It’s always the man, innit?”

Strike grunted in agreement at his friend’s oddly sage advice for someone he didn’t think had ever had a serious relationship. But not wanting to discuss it further, he changed the subject by reminding Shanker to come get his money and then he rang off.

Much as he would have loved to go back to sleep, he called Wardle to fill him in on what Shanker had found out.

As soon as his rather lengthy and surprising call to Wardle had ended, his phone immediately started ringing again. It was Nick. He was grumbling, “Can’t a man get a minute of bloody peace,” as he answered, which caused Nick to hesitate.

“…Oggy? Did… I disturb you? Are you and Robin...” Nick sounded uncomfortable, afraid that he had interrupted at a very inopportune moment.

“No, just been on the phone all morning. What’s up?”

“Nothing, I just wanted to know how the weekend with the parents is going? Wanted to see if you need rescuing yet.”

Strike hesitated, not wanting to recount the fight again this morning, and wondering why all of his friends were suddenly so interested in his weekend plans. 

Nick sensed the tension behind the silence. Serious now, he asked, “What happened?”

Strike heaved a heavy sigh and resigned to tell Nick about how Robin had chucked him out. Unlike Shanker, Nick didn’t try giving advice or condolences. “Right, so you’re coming over then, and we’ll have a few pints and a takeaway.”

Strike really wanted to refuse, but he knew that Ilsa would probably show up at his flat and drag him over to Octavia Street. He looked around at his shamefully demolished attic. _Fuck that_.

“Yeah, ok, I’ll be over in a bit. Give me some time to clean up.”

***

Strike nursed a few pints over the course of the afternoon, head still aching a bit from last night’s binge. He told Nick and Ilsa about his conversation with Wardle. Apparently Two Times was wanted all over the country for kidnapping and sex trafficking. He was connected with the kidnapping of a young woman in Manchester, another in Bristol, and a third in Southampton. All three women were thought to have been sold into a sex trafficking ring, but none were recovered. Two Times seemed to be the “supplier” for the ring. All three of the women had light colored hair, fair skin, and a shapely hourglass figure. All were similar in appearance to Robin. Two Times had so far eluded capture, because he used various aliases and moved around a lot. It had taken some time for the disappearances of the women to be connected. It was likely that there were many more yet to be discovered. Interpol had been brought in on the case, as the trafficking ring was likely international.

Strike wanted to call Robin and tell her the news. Twice he picked up his phone and started to call, but changed his mind. She was probably busy with the party right now, and besides, she might not want to hear from him. Ilsa noticed and guessed the direction of his thoughts, but said nothing. There was an unspoken agreement that they were not to mention his fight with Robin.

Ilsa had put some music on during dinner, which was softly wafting out to the garden, where the friends enjoying a drink in the cool evening air. Strike was smoking, looking pensive as he stared off into the distance. “Ain’t No Sunshine” by Bill Withers was playing.

“Can’t we turn that bloody music off?” Strike had grumbled under his breath.

Ilsa leveled him with a glare, “Why don’t you just call her already? You know you want to.”

“She doesn’t want to hear from me right now,” he mumbled.

Ilsa rolled her eyes, exasperated. “Corm, you bloody prat, of course she wants you to call her. She loves you! And you love her! That’s obvious to everyone but the two of you, apparently!”

“She was right, I treated her just like her tit ex-husband. I called her reckless, and stubborn, and something about being desperate to prove herself.” He was running his hand angrily through his hair.

Ilsa surprised him by saying, “Yeah, well, she is reckless and stubborn and desperate to prove herself. And so are you!”

Strike’s eyebrows shot up. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Ilsa’s voice softened a little. “I only meant that ever since you lost your leg, you’ve tried to carry on like normal, refusing to accept that you can’t do everything you used to be able to. You push yourself too hard, which usually results in you getting injured, because you don’t want to be seen as weak.”

Strike started to protest, offended, but Ilsa cut him off. “Corm, I’m your oldest friend, so I’m allowed to tell you when you’re being a prat. You and Robin are perfect for each other. If you both weren’t so bloody stubborn, you’d both realize that you don’t have to prove yourselves. Not to each other. You really are perfect for each other in that way.”

Strike contemplated what she had said for moment, realizing that as always, Ilsa was spot on. 

Nick finally chimed in, “You know you love her, mate. Now go get her back.”

“Of course I love her. But isn’t this what love is? Pain? Loss?” He inwardly groaned as he proved Ilsa right about being stubborn.

Nick and Ilsa just stared at him, slightly aghast, brows furrowed in consternation. Finally Ilsa spoke, “Corm… Again, I’m your oldest friend, so I’m allowed to say this. That bitch Charlotte really fucked you in the head.” Strike was surprised at the venom in Ilsa’s voice.

She continued, “She was toxic. You know that, right? That wasn’t love, not really. Love is patience, and kindness, and warmth, and respect. Everything that Charlotte was _not_ , and everything that Robin _is_.”

Strike rubbed a hand across his face. "Fuck me, I’ve really cocked this up, haven’t I?”

Nick nodded emphatically while Ilsa looked sympathetic.

He immediately pulled out his phone and called Robin, but it went to voicemail. He hung up without leaving a message. This meant that either she was at the anniversary party and didn’t have her phone on her, or she didn’t want to talk to him. He really hoped it wasn’t the latter. He looked at his watch. It was gone 8 o’clock. _Is it too late?_

“Right, wish me luck.” He stood up and started towards to the door.

Nick called after him, “Where are you going?”

Without breaking stride, he called back, “To Masham. I’m going to get her back.”

***

He had just passed out of London when Strike realized he would need to stop for petrol soon. He filled up at the next station, cursing the delay.

He was trying to balance his dislike of cars with the urgent need to get to Robin. He felt as if every minute that passed was a mark against him, fearing that she wouldn’t accept his apology if too much time had gone by. His false foot kept pressing harder on the accelerator, then he would ease up, aware of the few pints he had had that evening.

He turned on the radio, trying to distract himself. He turned it on to some pop station he didn’t particularly like, just to have noise in the background. The slight irritation of the music helped him focus on his driving. This worked perfectly well until “Losin Control” by Russ came on. The lyrics caught his attention, as they seemed oddly appropriate.

_She’s falling but she doesn’t think he’ll catch her_

_‘Cause her last relationship was a disaster_

_Accusations everyday she didn’t know why_

_All her calls would be ignored he’s on his own time_

_Shoulda ended it before it started_

_All she ever got was broken hearted_

_He was cheating on her tryna’ flip it_

_Back on her like a victim_

Strike felt a surge of anger at the scars _that twat_ had given Robin.

_Now she got baggage on her shoulder_

_But the new guy really loves her_

_She loves him, but she doesn’t trust herself anymore_

Suddenly he saw it all from a new perspective. That line in the song…. _she doesn’t trust herself anymore_. He understood what Ilsa was trying to tell him. And he understood why Robin was _reckless and desperate to prove herself_. She wasn’t trying to convince anyone else that she was capable. She was trying to convince herself. Just as he always did when he pushed his leg too far. 

This time when his false foot pressed harder on the accelerator, he didn’t ease up. 

Strike was about to change the radio station when the song “Someone You Loved” by Lewis Capaldi came on. Finally hearing a song he recognized, he withdrew his hand.

_Now the day bleeds_

_Into nightfall_

_And you’re not here_

_To get me through it all_

_I let my guard down_

_And then you pulled the rug_

_I was getting kinda used to being someone you loved_

He changed the station angrily, hoping for something a little less…pessimistic. He finally settled on an oldies station. He checked the time. It was close to midnight, and he was getting close to ¾ of the way there. He was making good time, driving much faster than he was normally comfortable with.

He was feeling decidedly hopeful as “I Drove All Night” by Roy Orbison came on the radio. He let the galloping rhythm push him even faster.

_I had to escape, the city was sticky and cruel_

_Maybe I should have called you first_

_But I was dying to get to you_

_I was dreaming while I drove_

_The long straight road ahead_

_Uh-huh, Yeah_

_Could taste your sweet kisses, your arms open wide_

_This fever for you was just burning me up inside_

Strike desperately hoped his night would end as Roy’s did (creeping into Robin’s room to make love to her). But he feared he might end up more like Lewis, spending the night alone. With renewed determination, he drove much faster than he was comfortable with, desperate to get to Robin before it was too late.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just love the image of Corm overcoming his fear of driving in order to get to Robin. Listen to this song and picture Corm speeding through the countryside, desperate to reach the woman he loves. It's just yummy. 😊💕


	14. Thinking Out Loud

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Robin does some soul-searching, helped along by her brother Steven.

Robin had to pull over twice on Friday on her way to Masham, trying to get herself under control. She had felt numb when Tristan had come out of the kitchen, and quickly rebuffed his condolences. She shuffled around, getting her things together, not wanting meet his eye. He just stood there, silently watching her until finally he grabbed her by the shoulders and made her look at him. She broke down completely and sobbed quietly into his shoulder for a few minutes. 

He asked her quietly, “Do you regret asking him to leave?”

“No, I was right. He shouldn’t have said those things to me.” She wasn’t sure she sounded convincing enough. 

Tristan sensed her remorse and said, “Don’t worry, he’ll call. Or maybe you should just call him. You can’t let an arse that perfect get away.”

Robin gave a small giggle as Tristan waggled his eyebrows, remembering the view he had been treated to in the kitchen. He gave her another tight hug, wiped the tears from her cheeks, and kissed the air next to both ears before bidding her goodbye and good luck.

Once on the road, the pain and anguish had crept back in, until she had finally pulled over and allowed herself to cry it out of her system. She mourned not only the loss of love, but of her career and the life she had built for herself in London. Sorrow swept her as she realized that she probably wouldn’t be returning to London anytime soon. She pulled over again when she neared Masham, so that she could splash some water on face and freshen up. She didn’t want her family to know that she had been crying. In fact, she didn’t want her family to know that she and Cormoran had rowed at all.

For reasons she didn’t want to acknowledge, lest she get her hopes up too high, she still wanted her family to have a good impression of Cormoran. So when she arrived at home in Masham, she told everyone that something had come up with one of their cases and Cormoran wouldn’t able to make it.

Only her brother Steven seemed skeptical, as he took in her red-rimmed eyes and slight puffiness. Whatever doubts he had about her story, he kept to himself.

It was rather late when she arrived, so she didn’t feel bad about excusing herself to bed as soon as could be considered appropriate. She didn’t allow herself to shed any more tears, but she stared at her phone much longer than she should have, hoping it would ring.

As she replayed their last encounter in her mind, she remembered that in the midst of the insults he had hurled at her, Cormoran had said “the woman I love”. Robin wondered if he realized that he had said he loved her. _If he did, he would surely call, right?_

Robin hadn’t gotten to say I love you back. Of course, she hadn’t wanted to in that moment, she was too hurt and angry. But she did love him, even though his words had cut her deeply. She started thinking that maybe Tristan was right and she should just call him. _No, if he wants to talk to me, he’ll call. I’m not going to beg. I’m not that pathetic._

She finally put her phone away and drifted into an uneasy sleep.

***

The next day, Robin put on her brightest, cheeriest façade. She didn’t want to ruin her parents’ anniversary party by moping about all weekend. Again, Steven seemed to be keeping an annoyingly close eye on her, but he said nothing.

Thankfully, preparing for the party kept them all extremely busy. It was her parents’ 40th anniversary and they were pulling out all the stops. They were to have the party at their house in the garden, complete with dance floor, music, food, a cake, and champagne. They had roughly 60 people arriving at their house that afternoon, so there was much work to be done.

Robin helped her mother string fairy lights and arrange center pieces while her brothers and father set up the portable dance floor and chairs. Linda didn’t ask after her daughter’s new relationship, which was just fine with Robin.

As guests started to arrive, Robin managed to fade into the background. She was afraid she wouldn’t be able to feign merriment much longer. She sipped champagne, picked at her food, and pretended to socialize, though she didn’t linger in any one conversation for very long.

As the night wore on and she continued to feel more and more morose, it occurred to her that she had been hoping Cormoran would randomly show up. But as the hours ticked away, that seemed more and more unlikely.

She was hiding in a dark corner, watching her parents dance to Ed Sheeran’s “Thinking Out Loud” when Steven came and sat next to her. 

_And I’m thinking ‘bout_

_How people fall in love in mysterious ways_

_Maybe just the touch of a hand_

_Oh me I fall in love with you every single day_

Neither of them said anything for a moment, but Robin had a feeling she knew what was coming.

“He’s not really working, is he?” Steven asked gently.

Robin turned to look at her brother, prepared to stick with her lame story, but when she looked in his eyes she knew she couldn’t lie to Steven. “No, he’s not.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“Not really,” Robin responded, but then she launched into the story anyway. Steven listened patiently as she told him about noticing someone following her, and then of questioning the stalker’s intentions, learning that he had been hired by someone, and finally of her idea to be used as bait which had led to the row. 

“He told me I was ‘too stubborn to see sense’ and that I’m reckless and desperate to prove myself,” she explained moodily. “So I told him to leave,” she added quietly.

It was getting late now and guests were starting to leave. Steven paused to shake hands with a friend that was passing by.

“Sorry, sis, but I’m going to have to agree with Strike on this one,” he said after they were alone again.

Robin gave him look of indignation. “I thought you were supposed to be on my side?!”

“I am on your side, Rob, which means I want what’s best for you. But Cormoran’s right. You have the tendency to rush headlong into unnecessary danger.”

“I had a good plan, and it would have worked!” Robin argued.

“I didn’t say it wouldn’t have worked, but again, _unnecessary danger_. It sounds to me like there were probably other ways to go about it. I would have reacted the same way if Jenny had come to me with some asinine plan like that.”

Robin opened her mouth to argue, but couldn’t think of a response that wouldn’t confirm the _stubborn_ comment, so she closed it again. They sat in silence for a moment, thinking. _Am I reckless_?

Suddenly Steven asked, “Do you love him?” She nodded.

“I don’t know the details of your relationship, but I’m guessing he loves you too. I could see it at your wedding to _the tit_. Give the man a break, sis, he just wants to protect you.”

“Well, he still shouldn’t have said those things to me,” Robin wasn’t ready to concede defeat just yet.

“Maybe not, but it doesn’t change the fact that he was right. I know we’ve always taken the piss out of you for wanting to be a detective and all that, but it’s just because you’re our sister, you know? That’s just what we do.” Steven shifted in his seat, a little uncomfortable expressing his emotions.

“Robin, I only tease you because after everything you’ve been through, you still throw yourself right back into the fire. A normal person would have chosen the safest, most boring job possible, but not you.” He looked at her, eyes twinkling, and a slight tremor in his voice as he continued, “And that makes you the strongest person I know.” He squeezed her hand and added, “You don’t have to prove yourself to anyone.”

Robin stood up and hugged her brother as tightly as she could, eyes brimming with unshed tears. He kissed the top of her head, gave her a slightly watery smile, and disappeared back into the dwindling party.

Robin stayed hidden in her little corner, thinking.

_I won’t stand by and watch as the woman I love throws her life away…_

She reviewed that statement with a new perspective. Cormoran’s protectiveness wasn’t the same as Matthew’s. Matthew would get angry when she faced danger at work, but not because he feared for her safety. He saw the danger as shameful somehow, just as he had seen her…attack…at uni. But Cormoran didn’t.

When Cormoran helped her with her CBT exercises, he was patient, kind, and understanding. He had never treated her as if there was something wrong her. She remembered when he had first offered to help her. He had squashed her reluctance by telling her that extreme trauma was nothing to be ashamed of. He had said, “People that have never experienced it will never understand what it can do to you, how it stays with you.” He had reminded her about his ridiculous fear of cars, and how he still had nightmares about getting his leg blown off. He had made her feel _normal_ , accepted.

Cormoran’s protectiveness wasn’t borne out of anger and a perverted jealousy the way Matthew’s was. His protectiveness came from a place of love.

And then she had gone and compared him to Matthew. Out loud. To his face. _Bugger_.

The last guests were finally leaving. It was close to midnight now. Robin kissed her parents goodnight. They went upstairs looking enviously happy. She stayed in the garden under the twinkling lights, listening to what Bridget Jones would call “Sad FM _”_. Pat Benatar was quietly crooning “We Belong” from the speakers when Robin heard the distinct sound of breaking glass.


	15. Total Eclipse of the Heart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Finally, the we get to the second song that inspired this story and its namesake.   
> Our two favorite idiots in love finally resolve their issues and *SPOILER ALERT* find their happy ending.  
> And there's a little smut, because... why not?

“Shit! Fuck!”

Robin came around the corner, looking confused and wary. She pulled up short when she saw him. “Cormoran?”

“Fuck, Robin, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to, I…” She almost laughed at his look of consternation. He was so adorably contrite, pacing slightly, cursing under his breath. She looked up to see the broken glass of her bedroom window.

“Fuck, I didn’t… I was just trying to get your attention… I didn’t want to wake everyone by ringing the bell.” 

“So you decided to break in?” She was trying hard to keep the laughter from her voice. She noticed he had a handful of small pebbles.

“I didn’t mean to break it. I think…I might have thrown it a little too hard. I was just trying to just tap on the window, like they do in the movies.” His anxiety started to ease as he saw her bemused expression. “I did try to call,” he added in his defense.

“Yeah, I left my phone upstairs during the party.”

He was taking encouragement from her small smile. _Maybe she forgives me?_

Unable to resist any longer, Cormoran took two large strides toward her and grabbed her in a tight embrace. He crushed his lips against hers. Robin was still for a moment, caught off guard by his intensity. But then his mouth softened against hers and she tangled her fingers in his hair, kissing him back. His tongue darted into her mouth, gently stroking against hers. He wrapped one arm around her waist, his fingers grazing the top of her arse, while his other hand cradled her head. After what felt like hours, they came up for air, and he rested his forehead against hers. Breathlessly he whispered, “I’m so fucking sorry, Robin. I never should have said those things to you.”

“No, you shouldn’t have. But I understand why you did.” She smiled up at him, letting him know he was forgiven.

His lips trembled slightly as he whispered, “I love you, Robin.”

“I know,” she whispered back, before kissing him softly on the lips.

He pulled back a little. “And?” He sounded expectant.

“And I love you too.” She smiled against his mouth as their tongues resumed their exploration.

He kissed her forehead, her temple, below her ear, all the while whispering that he loved her. He kissed down her neck, and rested his chin on her shoulder.

“I’m sorry I missed the party,” he murmured.

“It’s still going on. Would you like to dance?” He looked slightly confused as she pulled him around to the back of the house. Seeing that they were alone, he pulled her back into his arms once more, touching her much more intimately than he would have done with her parents present. They swayed on the empty dance floor, completely out of rhythm to Bonnie Tyler’s “Total Eclipse of the Heart”.

“I’m not sure I ever really understood this song,” Robin said.

Cormoran listened for a moment. 

_And we’ll only be making it right_

_‘Cause we’ll never be wrong_

_Together we can take it to the end of the line_

_Your love is like a shadow on me all of the time_

“I think it’s about the ups and downs of a relationship. Everyone has dark times, but you work through it because you know that it’s only temporary. Like an eclipse, the sun will come back out soon enough.”

She just nodded and squeezed him tighter.

“Were you serious about your bed not being very squeaky, or should we try to find a hotel?” Cormoran was lightly nibbling on her ear.

Robin giggled, “I’m not sure. I’ve never actually tested it out.”

Cormoran grinned wickedly at her, “There’s a first time for everything.”

***

They crept up to her bedroom silently, feeling like teenagers sneaking around after dark. Cormoran pulled a box of condoms from his pocket.

“Thought I’d grab some, just in case,” he said as he pulled her in for a kiss. They kissed slowly and languidly, neither in a hurry, both wanting to take their time exploring each other. Cormoran’s thumb was brushing across the mole next to Robin’s nipple. There was no way he could be accidentally missing, her nipples were currently rock hard.

“Why are you rubbing my mole,” she breathed against his mouth.

He pulled back to look at her. “I like it. It’s like your nipple has a beauty mark. Plus, it’s like a secret only I know about. Other men can ogle you all they want, and believe me, they do, but they’ll never get this detail right. I’m the only one that can picture your tits in all their glorious perfection.”

She laughed and shook her head. “I love you.”

“I know,” he teased.

As they continued to kiss and their hands continued to explore, clothes began to be removed. They moved to her bed, and were immediately met with a loud creaking noise.

“This might be a little hard,” Cormoran said, laughing a little.

Robin reached down and grasped his sizable erection. “I’d say it’s more than a little hard.”

Cormoran groaned, sliding his hand down to squeeze the bottom of her arse. His fingers dipped inside her knickers, gently probing at her slick folds.

“Fuck, you’re so wet,” he breathed against her mouth.

He eased her knickers down past her knees, and then pulled them free of her ankles, removing the last barrier of clothing between them.

The bed gave another loud creak as he positioned himself between her legs. They moved slowly, wary of the ancient and traitorous bed fame. Over and over again, Cormoran whispered, “I love you, Robin.”

They tried to be quiet, but as Robin was getting closer, she was no longer able to control the adorable sounds she was making. Cormoran kissed her, swallowing her cries of pleasure. He kept his eyes open, wanting to see her face as she came. As soon as her orgasm started, he released the hold he was keeping on his own, and they moaned into each other’s mouths as they achieved mutual bliss.

***

Sometime later, they were still lying naked in each other’s arms, resting peacefully but not fully asleep.

“Cormoran?”

“Hmmm?” He sounded sleepy and replete with pleasure.

“Will you promise me something?”

“Anything,” he murmured against her ear.

“Promise me you won’t keep me from doing my job, even if it gets dangerous.”

His arms tightened around her. “I promise. As long as you promise me something in return.”

“What?”

“Promise me you won’t put yourself in unnecessary danger.” She smiled as he unknowingly parroted her brother Steven. He added, “And promise me you won’t get mad when I want to protect you. I’d kind of like to keep you around for a while.”

She pressed in closer to him. “I promise.”

They held each other for a while longer, Cormoran lightly rubbing his thumb along the small of her back, just above her buttocks.

“How long?” She asked.

“How long do you have to keep your promise?” He asked, slightly confused.

“How long would you like to keep me around for?”

His thumb continued its lazy path. “I don’t know, I was thinking…forever?”

Robin grinned and snuggled in even closer to him. “Forever,” she agreed.

They kissed, and touched, and whispered sweet nothings until the sun started to peak through the broken window.


End file.
